


Could be Worse?

by inyourbrain



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Prison, Prison Sex, Slow Burn, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inyourbrain/pseuds/inyourbrain
Summary: Jamie has eight more months at the mercy of Her Majesty's Prison Service. Sixteen in, eight to go. Her carefully laid structures to get her to the finish line with as little trouble as possible are torn to shreds with one sweeping action of her ex.There's a target on her back, and worse still her trouble is set to spill over and drag her new cellmate down.ORDani is chucked into prison with Jamie and slow burn drama ensues.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie, Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 278
Kudos: 265





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like a slow burn!

_“Jamie…”_ she moans with finality, wrapping her arms around Jamie’s shoulders and pulling her close.

Jamie lets herself be taken in, be enveloped in the warmth. Feels the sweat slicked skin under her own, and she can pretend for just a moment that the situation is entirely different. Supplant the present with the ideal.

But the illusion doesn’t last long, and Jamie would be wise not to forget just who is clutching her, and where they are. And the need for extraction hits.

It’s part and parcel of the arrangement she partakes in. Not her favourite part. The sex, that’s fine, but she could do without the _cuddling._ She moves those feelings aside for her greater gain.

Admittedly, she’s the only one aware that they have entered into a deal. Some things are better left unsaid, and why mess with a good thing?

She plays her part well. No questions had ever been raised, nor her willingness challenged. She is well practiced in deceit.

Nonetheless, she really can only manage a few moments before needing to move, needing to breathe. A quick kiss peppered to a cheek and she’s slipping away, moving off to her own top bunk and drifting into a light sleep.

Another night with Maggie on her side means another day off the radar of Maggie’s troop of loyal imbeciles.

It really was one of her best plots to date.

* * *

Morning happened just as all mornings do in prison, hard and fast. Lights on, sirens sounding. A ripping from soft warm dreams and a chucking into the icy coldness that is Her Majesty’s judicial jurisprudence.

Jamie doesn’t mind it, awakens naturally slightly before the wailing sirens and typical cries of, “shut it the fuck off _, wankers_!”. Sleep had never been never a solid thing for her, not until recently with Tamara on her case. Even now she could only manage a light dipping into slumber.

Maggie on the other hand moans and groans with greater fervour than allowed to her in their nightly trysts, and this makes Jamie laugh and tease harshly as she hops down and readies herself to visit the greenhouse.

Maggie, as usual, plays along calling her a twat and a git, but Jamie knows she doesn’t mean it. The woman feels more than Jamie cares for, her predicament already a precarious balance.

It’s part of the reason Jamie teases her in the first place, each passing day becoming just that bit more biting. The harder and longer she tries to hold her in the night, the more venom Jamie pumps into her morning ritual.

She did not get fucking locked up to find herself in the jaws of someone else, for fuck’s sake. If she can turn her off just a little bit, Jamie would breathe easier.

There is a purpose to Maggie. One she needs to help keep her nose relatively clean.

There is no getting out of prison unscathed. You play your cards right, and you can appear clean. Sly and careful, that’s Jamie’s game. Others, like Maggie’s lot, throw their whole deck on the floor for a reputation.

Lifers.

“Give it up already, you’re louder than the fuckin’ horn,” she complains.

The icy look she’s thrown is enough to have her bolting, throwing her finest drab grey hoodie on in the hallway instead.

* * *

Greenhouses. Musky and heavy. Damp air giving life to a plethora of colours, if you can be patient enough.

Each morning she is afforded this, her sliver of peace. Her lifeboat in the rocky waves.

Who the fuck knew gardening could be so much _fun?_

Yet another thing she owed to Tamara. Jamie does not like owing people, particularly when she has no way of returning the favour. She can’t exactly throw her a bottle of hooch and call it quits.

It makes her itch to know someone has something over her. She does her best to ignore the feeling.

_“You need an activity,” Tamara pressed._

_“Fucking no. I want to do my time and go. That’s all.”_

_“Pick one, you have to.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

_“I can’t start to sign off your progress if you don’t get involved. It’s your choice.”_

_“Fine! The one with the least amount of anyone else.”_

It had been a new world for her to pick through, explore, plunder. The riches of joy hers for the taking if only she learned how to speak the language.

It may as well have been her mother tongue; she had taken to few things in life so well. The other life skills she excelled at certainly did not afford her the peace of mind this activity did. Caused her more trouble than they were worth, if she were honest.

In choosing this particular endeavour, she had also gained a life of solitude for the better half of the day.

Just two others are in the horticulture programme. 

Granted _horticulture_ might be a lofty phrase for what they actually do, but it does provide ample access to materials _about_ horticulture and that is as much as Jamie needs.

She had been hooked from the get go. A bright light of hope in her darkness. As long as she can channel time into the greenhouse with Doris and Helen she would be fine to knock the days off one by one.

It helps very much that Doris is deaf and Helen a recluse.

* * *

Yard time comes after the morning’s activities. It’s usually here that Jamie finds she has to actually speak to people for the first time each day, if morning encounters with Maggie aren’t counted.

She walks, alone if she can, but usually with various _clingers_ as she’s taken to calling them.

The clingers are usually harmless. Hocking cigarettes that Jamie would often buy, asking for favours that Jamie would typically decline, or bringing news of the day to her.

Even in her last life, her desire for solitude often resulted in other people being drawn to her. She’d noticed it before ever being sent down. A magnetism in desiring her own company. It made people wonder what it was about her that she liked so much to want to withdraw from society.

They never asked what it was about _them_ that made her want to draw away from society.

And so, she can usually count on _someone_ sidling up beside her, a quick swipe of the nose and a look around, and ask her _had she heard…_ or _did she want…_

Jamie smiles politely, and never offers them anything. She walks the outskirts of their seventy-by-seventy yard, and _ohs_ and _ahs_ appropriately, offering no information in return.

Information is a dangerous currency in prison, the price of playing too rich for her blood. She receives, but pays it back in other ways.

Eight months she has left, and eight months is all she will give, they can have her time but they can’t have her wits.

Occasionally she will be joined by Sammy, whose council could usually be relied upon as good. Sammy, today, greets her with a twinkle in her eye and a light quirk to her lips.

“Alright?” Jamie says as the taller woman pops up beside her. She slows her pace slightly for Sammy’s light limp, a hangover from a previous injury she had told her about.

“Aye, alright Jamie. How’s you?”

Jamie smiles, not answering. Pleasantries. She nods instead and braces for what news the other woman holds.

She smiles, baring yellowed teeth and a sheepish expression. “Can I bum a fag?”

Payment.

“’ course,” Jamie replies.

She finds out what she has bought only after the smoke is filling her senses, setting her own cravings alight. Her hand twitches to the box she stuffed back in her pockets, and she gives in, lighting her own.

Sammy smiles. “Trouble about.” She doesn’t sound upset about it.

“That so?”

A murmur of agreement, Sammy waiting on a push. Jamie doesn’t give it to her, just waits. It doesn’t do for anyone to know your particular interests and disinterests here.

“Your girl Mags,” she says, probing.

Jamie smiles, wide and amused. “Got no girl here,” she replies.

A light laugh trickles from Sammy. “Aye, I’m sure. ‘s not what she says.”

Jamie shrugs. “Don’t care what anyone says. Tellin’ you straight. That the trouble then?”

“Nah. Got another?”

“Last one.” Jamie holds her cigarette in front of her, barely two puffs in, and takes another pull before offering it to Sammy.

The price of information is high.

“Cheers.” She takes it, immediately fixing it to her lips. “Cheryl, you know her?”

“Know of her,” Jamie replies with non-committal airiness. This is Sammy’s real rate, cigarettes aside. She will read someone’s face as easily as a gossip magazine, finding truth more often than not. Jamie schools her features with the practiced ease of an aged out foster kid.

“Says you fucked in the shower, she does.”

“Does she.”

“Yeah.”

“Funny that.”

“Is it?”

“It is.”

“Not to Mags.”

“So that’s the news. Chery’s been talking shite and Maggie is taking it personally?”

Sammy chuckles, a little darkly. It sets a shiver racing up Jamie’s spine.

This is the exact kind of drama that gets more time added to people’s ticket. The kind of thick school yard drama that sets people back months of progress. She only has eight more.

If she were a bit smarter, a little more forward thinking, she might have said no to Cheryl, but her plump lips and fuck me eyes had been too much. A crook of her finger and the girl bolted from her own cubicle into Jamie’s.

“News is that Mags is set on straightenin’ her out.”

“That’s their business.”

“Right you are,” she replies, stopping as she spots her next target. “Talk to you again.”

“See you.”

* * *

She wasn’t lying when she had told Sammy that Maggie wasn’t her girl. Their unspoken agreement was orgasms for not being tangled up in prison messiness. _Not_ a relationship.

The _unspoken_ part of their arrangement, upon reflection, might have been a bad idea.

Jamie watches, silently and carefully, at dinner.

Tasteless mush and slightly more flavourful mush are on the menu tonight. Not Jamie’s favourite, but it beats the green mush that will be served tomorrow, as it is every Friday.

She takes tiny mouthfuls, ignoring Nora babbling happily beside her. She has been careful to not set her attention at this table since the beginning, coasting now on the assumption that she’s never listening to keep tabs of the room, know which areas to stay away from.

Nora is talking about Mags.

Jamie doesn’t need Nora to tell her about the trouble. It’s telling enough in itself that it’s found its way here so quickly. Whispers spread in prison like wildfire, but Maggie was a force to be reckoned with.

You don’t talk shit about her unless she’s spreading it herself.

Jamie’s eyes are trained on Mags, leaning over and waving her hands furiously to the four other girls she sits with, goes to yard with, plots and schemes with. They’ll be lifers too if they’re not careful. Shame really, some are only in on small charges.

Maggie will see that their rap sheets are full in no time.

And then suddenly Maggie is catching her eye, squinting challengingly, furiously. She’s up lightning quick, a flash of something shimmering in her hand, and the mess descends into chaos.

Arms are flying, people are fleeing, the epicentre of the mass a collision of Maggie and Cheryl, taken unawares. The four other girls joined to Maggie’s hip converging on the spot where their leader rolls with fury.

Jamie drops her spoon, kicks away from the table, walks to their shared cell. She ignores the roaring crowed, the shrieking screams.

The whistles tell her its all over anyway.

And maybe that’s her problem now solved, for a little while at least. No more dispassionate, one sided sex, no more suffocating cuddling, no more wondering just how the fuck she’s going to get out of this entanglement.

Maggie will be sent to solitary for her troubles. That’s the price of caring here.

Jamie lies back in her bunk, props a book up on her chest and ignores correctional officer Shivers as she collects Maggie’s belongings into a sack, getting it ready for reassignment of bunks when she’s released.

This is a good thing, she tells herself. Maggie will be more or less out of her life now.

A _good_ thing.

So why does she feel so fucking guilty?

* * *

Her cell is hers for the night. The first time she’s had a room to herself ever. First it had been her and Denny, then Mikey squeezed in, then group homes and foster homes, squats and shared houses, and finally a cell with Maggie.

Sixteen months she had shared this tiny room.

Sixteen months she had made herself small, and pliable and squeezed herself out of any hint of danger to her record. Eyes set ahead, looking forward to getting out always.

Maggie had likely been the _worst_ person she could have been housed with. Tall and supple, not bad on the eyes but terrible for the soul. She was known by reputation for pulling people asunder.

Jamie had fought hard to avoid her clutches, but wants were wants and at some stage it had been easier to accept the old adage:

_Keep your friends close…_

Maggie had been growing too fond of Jamie, yes, and that is a problem – _was_ a problem. But bigger problems now face Jamie in her absence. Wearily, she considers them.

First and foremost, the power vacuum now left in the unit.

Maggie has been sent down to solitary for three full weeks, Cheryl likely in medical for much longer.

The gang of four will now vie for Head Bitch, unlikely keeping Jamie out of it given her role in their master’s downfall.

Prison is prison after all. There are no _friends_ here. Maggie will come back to a different landscape, one Jamie must ensure to keep her nose free from.

Her second issue, as it stands, lands on the second night of her new independence.

Saturdays are for intake.

Sloppy dinner finished, searching eyes avoided, rumour mill unfulfilled, Jamie had retired to her cell. The same book she had yet to take a single additional page of in since the fight stares at her, begging to be read. Her racing thoughts do not grant her this mercy.

Instead, she gets fresh waves of gnawing anxiety and racing thoughts to counter different eventualities.

She squints nastily at Shivers as she bangs on the cell door with a clip board. The old creature sets the hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck on end, her beady eyes always searching for something to catch, for something to ensure her rank and position, perhaps boost her higher.

“Up!” she roars.

Jamie jumps down from the top bunk as Shivers ushers in a new girl, her pretty face frozen in shock.

“Your new cellmate,” Shivers says. “Show her what she needs to know, Taylor.”

Irritation spikes in Jamie’s chest. She doesn’t respond. She _wants_ to tell her that this girl _obviously knows how to make a fucking bed_ , wants even more to say _you fuckin show her_ , but just smiles derisively instead.

Jamie turns to the new girl, and sighs, vaguely registers Shiver’s snicker as she leaves.

She stares at the floor, unmoving, eyes fixed on the corner of the bed.

It’s a pitiful sight, the fresh ones. The set of her tells Jamie much, a tightness in her body, stiffness in the set of her neck, shoulders. Terrified. She probably hasn’t been in trouble a single day in her life before.

“Intake’s shite,” she says by way of greeting, attempting to pry the kit the girl carries from her hands.

She jerks back as if burned, holds them tight to her, staring at Jamie in panic.

Jamie holds her hands up, backs away. She knows that haunted look better than she’d like. “Jus’ tryna help.”

The girl’s breathing quickens, and she turns away, but Jamie can see her back and her trained eyes tell her all she needs to know in the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders.

“Hey,” Jamie says softly. “Breathe slowly. In and out, easy.”

The girl sniffles and Jamie rolls her eyes at just how stupid fucking _breathe_ must be to someone whose life has just been turned upside down, but what else is there really?

She won’t lie and say _it’s going to be okay._ It’s fucking not. Look at Cheryl. Guilt stabs painfully at her chest, no matter how skilfully she dances from it. She’d be fine if she hadn’t set her sights on Jamie.

Jamie banishes the unhelpful thoughts from her mind, focusing again on her companion instead.

Her words haven’t had any effect on the woman whatsoever anyway, and she hangs back behind her feeling less than useless. Pity swells within her, perhaps a side effect of Cheryl, but the pang makes her open to helpfulness.

She takes a slow step forward, and around her, managing to catch an eye. She motions to the pile in Dani’s hand. “The big one, that’s your blanket, bit rough but does the trick. Second one’s the sheet, you’ll definitely be wanting that. Pillows are thin but alright if you fold it.”

The girl’s eyes soften a bit, and Jamie finally takes her in. Beautiful and broken. Tears welling in her eyes. She wants to tell her that she’d best do all her crying in here, hidden away. She’ll be eaten alive out there if they know she’s weak. But who needs that kind of pressure?

It’s not Jamie’s business anyway. The less she interferes with people the better, evidently. All the same, there’s a pull she can feel in the way she looks at Jamie, clutches her meagre belongings, breaths in uneven bursts, that tugs at her. Reminds her of herself. And so, she says, “I’m Jamie,” opening some of this new, confusing, terrifying, world up for her.

A watery smile, weak and unstable, greets the words. “Dani,” falls from her lips. A surprising American lilt.

Jamie nods, flashing her winning smile that usually sets people to ease, and finally the woman starts moving.

Jamie does her best not to stare as she bends and sets about making the bed.

That would get her into trouble.

She doesn’t bank on the bed being taken long though, Dani is probably in for a barely-a-crime crime. Probably nicked a necklace or something, offended a police man or something.

Maybe just a little trouble would be okay, if it weren’t to last long anyway, she considers.

“Need to tuck the corners in,” she directs, still standing as far back as the small cell will allow. “Like that yeah. Shivers will have a fucking fit.”

Job done, Dani sits on the edge of the bed, pulls her legs up toward her.

This would be about the time Jamie _should_ go to her own bed, back to her own book, continue keeping her own nose clean. Dani’s problems are Dani’s problems. Her own problems are big enough, but just as her foot hits the first rung on the bunk, she hears a sniffle, and her heart sinks more than it should.

“Hey, Dani,” she calls. Red eyes meet her own. “C’mon,” she winks. “How bad could it be?” She’s got a bed, which is more than Jamie had for a good portion of her life.

Dani’s face crumples, she buries her head in her hands and breaths something Jamie wishes she never asked for. Something Jamie will pretend she did not hear.

“Murder.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning (promise?) this is very likely to turn E eventually, but for now we're M.

_Murder_.

Jamie blinks at the ceiling. The long florescent tube lights running parallel leave their mark each time she closes her eyes.

 _Murder_.

Even after the lights are dimmed, never fully turned off, she stares. And blinks. And thinks.

_Fucking. Murder._

Her mind races, and thoughts flit into her consciousness unbidden – just what kind of murder? Gruesome? Crime of passion? Accidental?

Just how fucking dangerous was this girl. This tiny whimpering girl who looks so lost, so broken.

Had she traded Maggie for someone much worse?

Time ticks on, and sleep does not come. She is thankful for the previous night, the one night of solitude she can count in her life – it might be the last fleeting taste of peace she’ll be granted until release.

Just another issue to chalk up for her to tackle in the coming weeks, she expects.

It doesn’t help that Dani’s soft crying is pulling on something lodged deep inside her chest. Doesn’t help that the piteous state of her upon arrival makes Jamie want to soften the blow.

People can deceive you, Jamie knew that well enough. Would not be burned again by that same fire, thank you very much.

At some point Dani’s silent, heavy sobs cease, and the bedframe’s vibrations dissipate. Every now and again Jamie can make out a sniffle, the rustle of the rough blanket and imagines her wiping the salt from her tired red eyes.

And she feels that. It had been her just over a year ago. Crying herself deep into the night, evaluating the wrongs and rights about her old life. Justifying and crucifying herself meticulously. Laying the foundations in her mind that will not only get her out of this hell, but prevent her from ever coming back.

That is what made this so dangerous. She can’t have _feelings._ Especially not soft feelings for a _fucking murderer._ She had only enough wits and energy enough to save herself. This woman would have to do the same. Far be it from Jamie to throw a life preserver from her own boat.

Besides, maybe this was all a rouse. Some women did that. They come in and act weak and are immediately claimed by another, skirting around and getting down and dirty as best they know how. Find themselves being _taken care of._

Jamie had been meticulous in her plotting early on not to end up someone’s bitch, particularly as Maggie was prone to sink her claws into them. Each careful step she took with precision, rebuffed Maggie’s offers of joining her crew, made herself tempting enough that she would still come crawling to Jamie with interest instead of ownership.

She would not be controlled, not out there and not in here.

It kept her free to do as she pleased, not enough trouble for anyone to really bother with. Just enough temptation for Maggie not to want to push her boundaries.

Or so she had thought.

Cheryl paid the price for that misstep.

It is hard, Jamie reflects, mind abuzz and sleep elusive, to deny herself.

She had stopped wanting Maggie _months_ ago. Fallen into a rhythm from which she could not escape. Enjoyment was had, yes, a good way to pass the time. A good way to stay free. Sated, but without a certain _desire._

The need for that desire, the need to rebel against Maggie’s hold, to rebel against _anyone’s_ claim or restrictions had set her blood on fire.

Given her standing agreement with Maggie, it was always inevitable someone would try to get to her through Jamie. Maggie rocks the boat too much.

Cheryl, with the green eyes and wicked smile, had designs on being top dog, perhaps still has.

A baffling ambition really.

She played a dangerous game and lost. If she’s smart it will be her only attempt.

Guilt settles in her chest at the thought of the part she played in her downfall, but she pushes it away into a corner of her mind.

Recovery would be a long time coming for her. Word had been forced upon her the day before, unbidden but not unwelcome, that her face would never be the same. Mags, quick as a whippet, had seen to that.

And now, here she lies, with a potentially more dangerous person having taken her place.

She is fucked.

* * *

The greenhouse welcomes her with its humid warmth bright and early the next morning. She had bolted just as soon as the sirens rang, sparing only a passing glance for Dani’s swollen face and tired eyes.

She _should_ have told her where to go, _should_ have pointed her Tamara’s direction had she any manners, but self-preservation had won out. She does not need the drama of befriending anyone.

Doris and Helen spare her a rare glance when she walks in, eyes flashing guiltily at her.

Her jaw tightens as she makes her way to her usual bench, away from them.

They needn’t look guilty, Jamie can’t understand sign language anyway. She’d have thought years in prison would school their expressions, but, she supposes, no one really pays much attention to the Golden Girls in here.

They could do just about anything and fly under the radar. Aspirations, and not a small bit of envy, for that level of invisibility usually guide her actions.

Usually.

Everyone makes mistakes, at least, Jamie reconciles, hers are made from a place of anticipating defensively and not from malice.

Besides, Doris and Helen don’t attract the same kind of _attention_ she does.

Jamie grits her teeth and sets about giving her own attention to something that might actually thrive on it for once.

Her beautiful purple azaleas have leaf spots.

Hands on hips, she surveys their destruction. It had started with one or two, she’d trimmed, tried to keep it contained, but it had spread regardless.

Hours had been poured into reading scraps of material they were allowed. Treatments mainly focused around one general principle.

Not being in fucking prison.

Access to anything past the bare minimum was not something that was greeted with enthusiasm by the screws.

Jamie rolls her eyes at the thought of asking for a fungicide, they would likely think her on a poisoning mission.

They weren’t _all_ fucking murderers.

Doris, out of the corner of her eye, catches her attention. Turns her away from her sour intruding thoughts. This is her place of solitude. She doesn’t need them here.

She listens as Doris clucks her tongue and shakes her head, roughly grabbing the pock marked leaves of her plant.

An itch to rip it from the older woman's hand strikes her, an urge to tell her to _be fucking careful_ , but she doesn’t. She just watches.

Doris tears the offensive leaves with practiced ease from the stem of the plant. Each one stacking more anxiety in Jamie’s chest.

A handful of ruined leaves in her hand, Doris turns and shakes them in front of Jamie.

“Done that before,” she says, suddenly self-conscious. This was her plant, she didn’t want Doris to thinks he couldn’t take care of it. “Comes back.”

Doris clucks her tongue again and dumps the leaves, meeting Helen’s gaze as she comes in and sprays the plant with a mister.

“What’s that?” Jamie cranes her neck to look around Helen’s frame. “What’s in there?”

Helen meets Doris’ gaze nervously, who taps Jamie on the arm sharply and motions her to stand back. Her warm eyes are trained on Helen’s face animatedly.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a little bit annoyed that they’re taking care from her, not informing her of their decisions. A little more curious as to just what they saw fit to give the plant. Between them they have copious experience.

If Jamie hadn’t wanted to be left alone so much, she would certainly talk plants with them freely.

Helen rushes back to their side of the greenhouse as soon as she determines the plant has received enough mysterious mist. Doris is placing fresh generic plant food into her arms, placing a note on top and is gone before Jamie even has a chance to thank her.

The note is written in a tidy cursive scrawl. It is simple.

  1. _Prune the bad._
  2. _Revitalise the good._
  3. _Feed well._



Jamie has an ache to apply its simplicity to the rest of her life. Too bad prison is not simple.

* * *

Eyes follow her as she walks the yard. She pays them no mind. Keeps walking. If for nothing else than Tamara tells her this will help her sleep better. She walks.

Her own eyes are trained on the path before her, only allowing herself sly surreptitious glances around.

The four women Maggie left in her wake are, as usual, huddled in a corner. Two watch and two talk. How they drew straws for the plotters and the watchers is beyond Jamie. One, Debbi, watches her as she watches them. She averts her eyes when she is noticed.

She does not want to be noticed. She does not want them to think Maggie has left a vacuum in her life.

Of course, they will think that. They will approach her sooner or later, try to compromise her carefully laid plans.

Patience. She will wait, and watch. Find something they want more.

And then her eyes find Dani, almost unconsciously.

She had noticed her as soon as she’d stepped foot in the yard, her gaze magnetically drawn to her. Admonishing herself, because while she can lie easily to others, it serves her no purpose to lie to herself, she had snapped her gaze away.

Though, now, under the guise of her usual walk, she sneaks glances at her. She really _is_ beautiful. Even with her blonde hair hanging limp, her expression haunted, her frame curled in on itself. She stands in a corner nearest the door, waiting for the time the lock will open, no doubt, and she can bolt stiffly to a different environment.

She’s being watched by more than just Jamie, the vultures beginning to circle. Several inmates had walked up to her already, darted in quickly and asked her questions and darted back just as quickly. No one wanting to be caught talking to her until she is assessed by their peers.

A rip of pity tears through Jamie’s chest. She is not holding herself up well and they can smell it on her.

“Alright?”

Jamie’s attention snaps to Sammy, and she nods. The lack of sleep is getting to her, people should not be able to sneak up on her so easily.

“New cellmate, eh?” she asks.

Jamie doesn’t reply, digs her cigarettes out and lights one for herself. Sammy eyes it jealously, just as Jamie knew she would. “Yep.”

“What’s her story then?”

Jamie shrugs, waiting. Her currency is not information.

“Spoken to her yet?”

“Nah. Keep to m’self.”

“Aye you do,” Sammy says, sarcasm lacing her tone.

It irks Jamie, and she sighs audibly.

“Spare one?” Sammy steams ahead. Jamie passes her a cigarette and a lighter. “Word is she’s in for something bad.”

Jamie chuckles, not outwardly biting. Dying inside. “We all are.” She holds her hand out to get the lighter back.

“Not me,” Sammy grins, “innocent, I am.” She presses the lighter back into her palm. She’d have kept it if she could.

“’ course.”

“Pushed her ex in front of a truck, didn’ she?” Jamie’s face freezes in shock. Sammy cackles. Jamie’s expression had been let loose and read by her expert eyes. A mistake. “G’luck mate.”

* * *

Jamie avoids any and all contact with the other inmates, as much as possible.

Time for her to get her head on straight.

She grants herself a small grace: evading the yard talkers. Drawing a line in the sand between being a passive participant and refusing to play.

It’s easy enough. She walks, and refrains from smoking. Sammy will not approach without the promise of reward.

Simply, Jamie doesn’t want to fucking know whatever she has to say.

The eyes of the four follow her. Whatever they’re up to will trickle to her as soon as Sammy is aware, regardless of her singles of disinterest. She knows she’ll get her price for that one. Idle gossip is one thing, threats to one’s safety are a whole other ballgame.

The worry she tries to outrun twists knots into her stomach, drives peace from her head. Doris and Helen throw her increasingly concerned glances.

Thankfully, they keep to themselves. She doesn’t need to design plans to outrun her greenhouse.

Drama comes and goes in prison, mostly a fleeting thing that resolves itself rather quickly. Like a rock in a running river, it usually flows right over Jamie, caught ever on the peripheral edge of it. But this one has burrowed into her soul, and she can’t outrun that.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. Not only the worry of what Dani has done, but the additional lack of peace in her crying.

Jamie has no idea how she hasn’t run out of tears.

It doesn’t help that her sadness seems to be seeping into Jamie. That she actively finds herself thinking of things that might relieve her just a bit.

Even worse, she finds herself following through on some of those plans.

_Jamie placed her plastic tray of food down beside Dani on her third day, noting the glances and whispers aimed at them._

_Her icy blue eyes widen in surprise. Jamie hadn’t so much as said two words to her, and the confusion in her glace was understandable._

_Silence meant little to Jamie, actions speak louder than words and all that._

_Cheryl wasn’t her fault. She knew that. Cheryl had made her own choices. But the ripping guilt inside her was there nonetheless, her role undeniable._

_Within the bounds of keeping her own skin, she would make sure nothing happened to anyone else as a direct result of her._

_She wasn’t a monster._

_The choice presented itself._

_She could let the mean eyes pick across Dani, assessing her for parts. Or she could give her an insight, a small mercy._

_“They’re watching, y’know,” she told her, shovelling dinner into her mouth, not making eye contact._

_“What?” Dani asked, mouth tight, eyes on Jamie._

_“Eat.”_

_“Who’s watching?”_

_“They all are, Dani.”_

_“Why?” she whispered._

_“’Cause you’re scared.”_

_“Aren’t you?”_

_Jamie sighed. “Course. Jus’ need to watch your step, figure out how to blend in.”_

_Tears welled in Dani’s eyes, “I can’t do this.”_

_“Can.” Jamie continued to eat. “No crying here.”_

_Dani bit her lip, taking in a gulp of air. Nodded. “It’s so hard.”_

_“Expected it to be easy?”_

_“No,” Dani said. “I just expected to at least be able to shower. My God, it’s_ always _full. How are you so_ clean _?”_

_Jamie chucked, eyeing her. Hair greasy, plastered to her head. Eyes drawn and miserable. “Does help, being clean. I usually go right after dinner, c’mon, now is best actually.”_

_Jamie had met her wide eyes, hopeful, relieved at a scrap of kindness, of conversation._

_She followed Jamie as she dumped her tray, gathered her things, and into the bathroom._

_“There’s no one here!”_

_“People shower early in the mornin’, they figure that’s the best way to avoid the masses. Or late at night if you’ve got some tout. No one misses dinner. I don’t care, food’s shite anyway. Few bites is all I can stomach. Rather this, I do.”_

_Jamie reflected, soaping herself generously in the cubicle next to Dani, hitting the water button every thirty seconds as it shuts off, that this was the first prison secret she’d ever shared. And just as the anxiety hit, the feeling that told her to stay out of it, stay out of the way, mind your own, Dani groaned. A sound of unadulterated, absolute pleasure._

_Jamie had stopped in her tracks, blood racing through her body, mouth dry._

_Logically she knew that this was the sound of a woman taking pleasure in washing days of grime from herself._

_But logic didn’t factor into the raw desire it pumped into her._

_She hit the water button again, scalding every feeling she could from her skin._

One small mercy, an uninterrupted shower, had turned into others. Little nuggets of navigating prison had bled into simple chatting.

And Jamie finds that she doesn’t quite mind the chatting. Doesn’t mind it when it’s Dani, who seems wholly untouched by the weapons the other inmates wield. There’s no outward manipulation that Jamie can detect. No hint of wanting anything, no challenge against Jamie’s agency.

She doesn’t ask for anything, just revels in Jamie taking her out of the shadows for a few moments each day.

Though she struggles to comprehend, doesn’t understand if it makes sense after her sixteen months in, but it’s almost as if Dani _enjoys_ her. Not her abilities. Just her.

It’s fresh. It’s new.

Jamie likes it. And hates that she likes it. Psyches herself up every day in the greenhouse to push back, pull away, do _anything_ other than fall deeper into the ease she’s finding in Dani’s company.

But all it takes is catching the Four glare at Dani, smirk between themselves, and Jamie’s leaving her perimeter, guiding Dani away from the scavengers.

Dani is catching on, avoiding the people Jamie advises against, saving her conversation for their cell – when she can. Often, she can’t. Much of her time is still spent staring emptily at the floor, as she had her first night.

Jamie’s heart cracks to see her dissociating so fiercely, but there’s only so much she can do. She offers her most sympathetic smile, and disappears to read in her top bunk.

Dani catches her off-guard one night, popping up from her place below Jamie, where she had left her staring into space.

“Alright?”

Her eyes start to well, and Jamie’s chest seizes.

“Jamie.” Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

Jamie jumps down, pulls her onto her own bed. Hands on either side of her face she guides her breathing. This happens occasionally, the endurance cracking in her, the need to borrow strength.

It used to happen to her too, and she can’t help lending some.

“It’s alright,” she coos, “it’s alright.”

But Dani is shaking her head, and Jamie catches in the glowing white florescence a letter she’s clutching. She frowns, but doesn’t wonder too long. “They’ve set a date.”

“A date?”

“My trial.”

“You’re on remand? I thought you were convicted?”

She shakes her head, letting out a sob loud enough for Jamie’s head to dart around and make sure no one lingering can hear.

“Why didn’t you say?”

Dani just presses a hand to her chest in answer, tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, Dani, breathe. Right. In and out. Come on.”

It’s minutes before she can speak, flush and exhausted. “Four months. I’m here four more months until the trail. And- and- and- if I don’t win- longer.”

“Stop,” Jamie warns, cutting her off before she can build up to more panic.

“I didn’t do it!” she moans.

Something inside Jamie’s chest unclenches. The final piece of the dam holding her foster-care and prison-built sensibilities in check.

She believes her.

Penance for her sympathy hits fast. A snuffling snicker from their cell, Dani letting loose a soft, "oh!". 

Jamie turns, dread already knotting in her stomach, and catches Debbi's smirk and tittering laughter as she walks away. Juicy windfall received. 

Fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for the lovely feedback. Glad to have you aboard my jailhouse romance boat! I know it's a very AU AU, as far as they go, but HOPEFULLY not going overboard OOC with the gals! 
> 
> Feel free to point out mistakes and I'll get them fixed!
> 
> Also massive shout out to the hugely talented ClomWrites who is the fic maestro of Bly.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad you're all along for the ride! Appreciate each and every one of you kudosers, commenters and silent readers!

_“How are you finding your new roommate?”_

_“Y’mean cellmate?”_

_“Your labels, Jamie, not mine.”_

_“Not my label, is it Tamara?”_

_“How are you finding Dani?”_

_“Agreeable.”_

_“Care to expand?”_

_“Not really.”_

_“Try anyway.”_

_“She’s very… New to this.”_

_“Prison?”_

_“No. Yes. Prison. But more than that. This life.”_

_“Life, what do you mean by that?”_

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“Pretty sure she’s had one about as long as you.”_

_“Not the same kind as me.”_

_“Have you asked her?”_

_“No.”_

_“Why don’t you?”_

_“’Cause I’m trying to get the fuck out of here, not in further.”_

_“Yes, you’re very good at the_ out _, perhaps it’s time we work on the_ in _.”_

* * *

Jamie lurches from Dani, burned. She is hot lava, spewed forth from her own personal hell.

She stares pathetically at the empty entrance to their cell, willing time to reverse, reel itself back in and settle safely back into her carefully contained existence.

Debbi, henchman extraordinaire. A bitter whirlpool of scorn, just as likely as Maggie to pull people down. It had cost Jamie six cigarettes to indirectly determine she’d been sent down for minor drug offenses, sure by her attitude it would be much more serious.

Maggie had weaved her magic around the woman, luring her into the darkness, just as she had tried with Jamie.

A minor drug offense had morphed so easily into trafficking pills into prison and a month in the hole. And just like that, with one swift and decisive choice, she was lost. A slave to a system she would be fortunate to ever make it out from.

It is Jamie’s worst nightmare. Sets her teeth on edge to think about it.

Time-added is catching, and Debbi is as contagious as they come.

Dani sniffles behind her, miserably, an outward expression of the sinking feeling catapulting Jamie’s stomach through the floor.

Two peas in a pod they are, Debbi and Maggie. Often, she’d thought Maggie kept her around in part because she enjoyed having what she wanted on a platter and found Jamie captivating, but also in part to make Debbi jealous. A new toy that had wandered into her grasp a couple of months after Jamie, and one she ensured would be around much longer than that.

Jamie sighs, “fuck.”

“What?” Dani asks.

Jamie drops her head into her hands. Struggling to believe that Dani doesn’t even know the gravity of what just occurred, so ingrained in her is the avoidance of making waves in this great lake. Every waking thought is consumed with the best way to fly beneath the radar, how could anyone else not be thinking the same?

She turns, looks at her, stares. She searches for anything, for any tell, any piece of expression not yet schooled that might lead Jamie to suspicion. Anything in her that tells Jamie her generosity has been misplaced, that she’s made _another_ mistake.

But she doesn’t find any. No glimmer of malice, no twitch. Just trust. Just genuinely curiosity, wondering what’s changed, why the shift. She’s fresh in, and not meant to be here. She doesn’t know the power in privacy.

Years of foster care, and everything that came after, has prepared Jamie for this life. It was almost comically inevitable. She hadn’t even been surprised herself. Destiny, she supposes, it’s called. Ironic too, to grow up without four walls to call her own, only now to be trapped within them.

But Dani, who has been free as a bird for her whole life, couldn’t possibly understand that in here it’s not just the four walls that contain you. That you had better batten down the hatches of your own skin and let none of yourself seep out or you won’t be your own for long.

“Jamie,” Dani whispers, laying a hand on her shoulder. “What?” A small amount of panic leaks into her voice. Acknowledged and magnified tenfold into Jamie’s own mind.

She should panic. She _should_. Jamie _is_. But, Jamie realises, she doesn’t want her to. She looks her over, sad eyes, drawn and believing. _Believing_. In Jamie. That Jamie can help her. That Jamie would _want_ to help her. That Jamie is _good_.

And something funny happens. Not a tightening of anxiety, or a constriction of dread, but a hopeful bubble. Dani, someone from an entirely different life, someone untouched by the dirt of her own, _believes_ in her.

Sixteen months, and years before that, a lifetime maybe. It had been a lifetime of negativity, of aggression, of selfish needs. In the destruction of one evening, Debbi discovering simple affection too late to be undone, Jamie considers, she might like this feeling. It is… Light.

She dismisses it for now. Saves her thoughts for later, they’ll consume her all night long. Dani has other things to worry about.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, turning back to her. “Sorry Dani, don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

“Fix what?”

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Four months you said?”

Dani searches her face, eyes flitting back and forward between her own. A look that wants to press, wants to know more. Scared, intending to help, but haunted with her own demons, and she concedes. She nods. “Four months.”

“Not bad.”

Something flashes in Dani’s eyes, the wrong thing said. “It’s a long time.”

Jamie considers with a gentle nod. Takes in the small, shrunken frame of her. She’s withered to half her stature this evening, curling in on herself. Preservation. “S’pose,” she says, “for someone who’s innocent.”

“I am,” she breathes. Her eyes bore into Jamie, earnest and pleading. “I didn’t do it, Jamie, I didn’t.”

Jamie smiles sadly, pats her hand, surprised when Dani grabs it. _Delighted_ when Dani grabs it? “Most say that, Dani.”

“It’s true.”

“Aye. Doesn’t matter though.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Not in here.”

Her face hardens. Hand squeezes harder.

“For what it’s worth,” and against her better judgement, “I do believe you.”

“You do?”

Jamie nods, and relief floods Dani’s face. The crinkle between her eyebrows telling Jamie she’s trying to not cry, stiffening of her lips confirming the same.

“Hey, no crying. Remember? We’ve given them enough tonight.”

She sniffles. “What?”

Jamie sighs, thoughts racing and heart following suit. “Look, Dani. I believe you, yeah? But either way, you’re here same as me. Four more months. That’s four months of people picking you apart for what they can take. This is prison. Maybe you’re innocent, but you’re here with people who aren’t.

“Y’have to understand this, and understand it real well. This place will take everything you have. The women here know how to get what they want, some have nothin’ to lose.

“It’s dangerous for someone to have anythin’ over you. Feelings, thought, emotions. Lock them away, and do it now.” She watches as Dani shakes her head, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “This is what I mean, y’giving them too much. It’s hard but can be so much worse.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbles, voice hard and tight, jaw barely moving.

“Keep your head down and your nose clean. See Tamara every chance you can. Helps to just get away from this place a few hours, even if she does tend to talk for England. And prepare for your trial.”

“I’m trying, but what if I lose?” she asks, voice tight and pained, jaw locked – giving nothing.

Jamie looks her dead on, eye to eye. “Don’t.”

* * *

Tamara says she should let people _in._

She says _in_ doesn’t specifically refer to her body, as Jamie would have liked to think. That was so much easier. The physicality of it so much plainer than the mentality of it. In was easy, wham bam thank you ma’am. Sated until the next time.

Fucking _in_ though. What the fuck does that even mean?

She sees it all the time, prison relationships. They get together on a day and are bitter enemies the next. No one needs another enemy in this place, especially Jamie.

She was careful, she was sure in her movements. She made it so that Maggie could never claim her as anything other than a shag, and vice versa.

To her credit, Maggie had never pushed. She took just as Jamie took. Her feelings had started to grow where Jamie’s hadn’t, but Jamie thinks, that is because she lacked proper discipline.

She should have learned by now, really, been in five years and counting. Racking up more and more time with stupid infractions. And pulling the people she likes down with her. Plenty had been burned by her. Jamie was not going to be the next.

She walks the yard, along the perimeter as usual, a crisp Autumn day lending a chill to the air. Jamie watches, her eyes find Debbi. Debbi with the shit-eating smirk on her face, with the weighty eyes that say _I know you, I’ve got your number now._

Jamie averts her gaze, dread sickening her stomach, she does have her number. Just look at poor Cheryl, and she had _known_ what she was getting into – for the most part. She can’t do that to Dani.

 _Innocent_ Dani.

Surely the best choice of someone to let it.

She takes out her cigarettes. It doesn’t take long before Sammy is limping up to her, cackling in knowledgeable glee.

“Y’alright Jamie?” she says.

“Aye Sammy, you alright?”

“Never better, never better.”

Jamie offers a cigarette. Sammy accepts.

“What you wanting?”

Jamie sighs, “I think you know.”

“Think you might tell me anyway.”

Jamie bristles. “Debbi.”

“Mhm. Been a bit lost without Mags, that one.”

“Doin’ well enough by the looks of it.” Jamie trains her eye back on the woman, now looking distinctly predator-like at Dani. Jamie’s heart beats just a bit faster.

“Is she?”

“You tell me.” _That’s what I’m fucking paying you for._

“Lookin’ more sour by the day. Can’t wait until Mags gets out, I expect.” A pointed glance is all it takes to confirm Jamie’s fears.

“Got a spare, for later?” More information to be given. Jamie sighs. The price isn’t too rich for her today, whatever Sammy has to offer she needs to know. She passes her the box. Her face lights up, and she takes it, not looking at the box, but at Jamie. Her biggest catch. “Shit.”

“Tell me.”

“She’s spread it about that you and the new cellmate are shaggin’.”

“That so?”

“Made it well known. Especially to Shivers.”

“Telling a screw?” Jamie frowns. “Didn’t have her down as a grass.”

Sammy shakes her head. “Nowt to do with any rule breakin’.”

“Fuck.”

“Mhm. Reckon she’s already passed the message down the Hole.”

“Alight then.” In for a penny. Fucking ha’penny was all Cheryl was in for, and look at her face now. There’s only one way to keep tabs on the situation now. “Dani’s with me.”

Sammy stops dead, eyeing her meticulously, taking in every detail of the features Jamie fights to keep neutral.

“Y’hear me?”

Sammy nods, and walks away.

Message out for distribution.

* * *

Jamie jumps when Dani’s tray hits the steel covering of the table. A breathy, “hi!” accompanying her.

“Alright?” she mumbles, picking up her one slice of moist bread. Fucking fridge bread. She dunks it in her beans and bites, wishing absently for some more chew.

“Yeah, I guess I am!”

Jamie raises an eyebrow, neglecting to comment. Ears everywhere.

“Um… Tamara, the counsellor, she made me pick an activity.”

Jamie smirks, going in for a second dunk.

“There’s a reading programme here, did you know?” she asks.

Jamie nods slowly. “Aware of it, yeah.”

“Well.” Dani sets about her own beans. “Tamara asked if I’d be interested in teaching.”

“Teaching?”

“Yeah, like English. Literacy. Reading and writing. A lot of these women never learned.”

“Mmm, some grew up proper rough.”

“Like you?” she murmurs.

Jamie’s eyes snap to her own, caught off guard mid swipe of tomato juice. Dani’s eyes are soft, big, imploring and warm. Jamie shakes it off, the feeling that Dani caring plants into her chest. Forces it down to her toes and into the floor, plasters a smirk on. “Worse, I’d imagine, some.”

Case. Fucking. Closed.

Her half smile of sympathy lingers a beat too long and Jamie can feel the care rising again, stuffs it back down again and clears her throat.

“Right. And how was it?”

“Amazing, I forgot how much I missed it.” Her eyes flicker up, take in the confused expression Jamie knows is there, smiles. “Teaching.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“I was, back in the states. Au pair here. Until-” she waves her hands around.

“You off’d your boyfriend,” Jamie supplies cheekily.

Dani’s eyes flash up to hers, and unbidden, a chuckle tumbles out. Be it the stress of her accusation, the relief of finding something she loves, the comfort in a kindred spirit, all of the above maybe, but she laughs and it is the sweetest sound to cross Jamie’s ears in such a long time that she’s determined to make it happen again.

She does. And in doing so, she had gifted herself the same.

She makes her laugh in their cell when her playful ribbing turns into a new nick-name _Poppins._ Makes her laugh all the more when she’s telling her, _“shhh, someone will hear us!”._

She makes her laugh when she somehow lets it slip that the third cubicle’s water pressure is shite, but less shite than the others, each evening turning it into a race to be there first.

Her laugh brightens Jamie’s day when she tells her, animatedly, how the women in her class are excelling.

Her giggles at her stupid jokes, and particular way of keeping her books organised (not alphabetically, but by how much she loves the story), breathe a new life into Jamie’s body. Starved of oxygen and finally coming up for air.

Her misery has slowly started to morph into a dedication, not least in part because she now has access to the legal library for longer and longer each day as she takes on more pupils. And Jamie notes, to her surprise, that some of these pupils are offering her kindnesses.

She had looked suspiciously on it at first. The gift of a small chocolate bar by one, a Coke by another – small to anyone on the outside, almost meaningless. Inside? Easily a few day’s work.

They appreciate her. And it relieves some of the constriction in Jamie’s chest. Someone else to look out for her is good.

It had made her forget, for a brief moment, just how fucking shite her life had been. A survival. Sixteen months of living on a plan, to the rules. A mere sketch of a life, until Dani had appeared and thrown her water colours all over her canvas.

She loved it. And hated it.

Especially when, one day, the days having gotten away from her slightly, she spots her.

Maggie, bold as brass, smiling for all the world like she’s got nothing better to do with her whole life than ruin Jamie’s, saunters up to their table.

Jamie swallows audibly, remembers herself, and schools her features into a blank slate.

Dani catches her, crinkles her brow, about to ask just what’s wrong with her, when Maggie lands. She slams her tray down next to Dani with a soft thud, and stares, malice piquing every feature.

Jamie’s heart slams repeatedly, methodically, against her rib cage. Sweat collects on the back of her neck. Her body too hot, too big, to fit in this room – in this life.

 _Escape!_ her mind screams, _escape now!_

She carefully takes in Maggie’s utensils, allowed only a spoon now after her previous show with Cheryl. Still, a lot of damage can be done with a spoon.

“Well, well, well,” she coos, “if it isn’t the lovebirds.”

Dani, sensing maybe that something isn’t quite right, looks desperately at Jamie. Desperation for understanding, a need for Jamie to illuminate this fresh darkness. No twitch of feature for the _lovebirds,_ Jamie notes. And despite everything, despite Maggie and the intense pulse in her temples, she is pleased. So close, they’d been so close so many times. Jamie brushing her hair back from her face, Dani placing a hand on the small of her back to get past her in the cell. A new tenderness she hadn’t experienced. Undeniable for her. Maybe the same true for Dani?

Jamie shifts her leg forward, silently, under the table, brushes Dani’s. A plea not to say anything.

“Hi Maggie,” she greets.

Maggie laughs, taking Dani’s fork boldly from her hands and popping it between her teeth.

Jamie’s blood runs cold. She maintains eye contact, muscles tensing for a moment, ready, waiting.

“That all you have for me? Three weeks it’s been.”

“How was it?” she asks, monotone.

“How do you think it was?” she asks. “Three weeks alone is a lot of time, don’t you think?”

Jamie opens her mouth to reply, but Maggie shifts her attention to Dani. “What do you think, New Girl?”

Dani opens her mouth, closes it, opens again. “Y- yeah. Long time.”

“You know why I was sent down?” she asks, twirling the fork against her lip.

Jamie clenches a fist, ready to dart out in an instant.

“Enough, Maggie.”

She turns, grins, and looks back at Dani.

Jamie wants to scream.

“For this one,” she nods her head to Jamie.

Dani’s brow crinkles.

“That’s not true,” Jamie grits.

Maggie laughs. “True enough.”

“It was nothing to do with me.”

“Wonder when dear Cheryl will be back.”

“Stop this.”

She slams the fork against the steel, eyes on fire. “No. I don’ think I will Jamie. It’s disrespect, is what it is.” She points the fork at Jamie. “You owe me.”

“No I fuckin’ don’t!”

“Someone will pay.” She grins, turns to Dani. “Maybe your new wife?”

Dani’s head snaps to Jamie. Mercifully she stays silent.

“No,” Jamie says fiercely.

“Well then it’s _you._ ” She stands up, gives one more smirking grin, "I'll be seeing you, Jamie," and leaves.

Rage blazes across Dani’s face. Her breath coming in rapid fire gasps. Jamie pushes back from her leg underneath the table. _“Your what!”_ she whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes - I did make Word read it to me (hilarious and bizarre in equal measure) before posting and it was alright? Feel free to tell me and I'll get to the fixing. 
> 
> I feel like all my intro chapters have wrote me now, let the games begin! 
> 
> Happy New Year!
> 
> (feedback always welcome)


	4. 4

“I never said you were my wife!” Jamie explains, frantic and casting glances beyond the cell opening, where Dani had all but dragged her after Maggie’s intrusion.

“Oh, so it just came out of nowhere did it? Just a rumour?” Dani spits, worrying divots into the ground.

“Well, no, not exactly.” Jamie runs a hand through her curls nervously. “Look, that night Debbi was wandering, she sent it back to Maggie that you and I were– were–” Her hand waving airily in front of her, manifesting the words from the air finishes the sentence.

Heat rises beneath her collar and she wonders at it, unsure where her sudden prudishness had come from.

“ _Wives!_?”

“Dani _shhh!”_

Dani scoffs.

“Look, I meant– Fuck.” She shakes her head, nervous energy roaring through her. “Look she saw what she saw and decided we were fuckin’. Got it to Maggie. And– and– that’s what happened to Cheryl, yeah?”

“What? Y- you had sex with Cheryl?”

Jamie ignores the urge to examine her tone, probe the hint of… Disappointment?

“Uh– yeah, I did. Or, s– she had sex with me. Listen, it doesn’t matter! Maggie attacked her. _Because_ of me.”

“Oh great! _Great!_ So, it’s better that I’m your _wife!”_ She sits on the bed, head in hands. “That won’t be a problem at all!”

“Never said you were my wife!” Jamie repeats, uselessly, needing the words to alleviate some of the pressure building in her head. She genuflects in front of her, hand hovering over a knee, retracted when she thinks better of it. “I said you were with me. They filled in the blanks.”

“You led them there, it’s the same thing, Jamie! Why didn’t you _ask_ me!”

“Well, it happened so fast! You– you were dealin’ with your trial shite.”

“You made a decision _for me._ ” Dani’s eyes flash dangerously and understanding dawns on Jamie.

She shakes her head, guilty, “I just meant it so that people would leave you alone, let you get your bearings is all.”

“That wasn’t your choice.”

Jamie reels back, confused. Surprised. Ashamed. The foreign implosion Dani’s words initiate in her brain causing a physical reaction.

Considering other people in her actions, she can admit, has never truly featured in her thinking. If that had been her modus operadni thus far in life she would be dead, plain and simple. No doubt in her mind if she hadn’t been looking out for number one, she wouldn’t be here to look out for anyone.

Her paths have been bleak from the start, the most she could ever do was make the best of a bad hand. _Prison_ , that was her best. Her royal flush. Doomed to walk the halls, plotting, scheming, conceding victories and defeats. Sacrifices to be made, all to get back into the world and continue to think only of herself.

How had she gotten it so wrong?

Let someone in, Tamara says. Let someone _in_.

Not into her body. Not into her choices. But into her counsel? Thoughts? Decisions? Actions? 

_All of it._ She can hear her now, Tamara’s soft, exasperated voice, ringing in her head. _That’s what it means._

She averts her gaze, giving her energy to the floor instead of Dani’s disappointed face.

 _Maybe_ she should have asked. _Maybe_ they should have agreed on it. In an ideal world the words Dani is saying are true, but trying to understand how a better solution might have been agreed if they’d spoken about it is a struggle.

“Yeah.” She stands. “Sorry.”

Dani’s kind eyes follow her, granting her their own small mercy as she climbs up to her own bunk, but the silence still condemns her.

She gets it now. Regardless of no better solution, regardless of a difficult decision, she only owned half of it. Protecting stripping agency, agency stripping protection. A fine balance, and a click of understanding in her head, the spark that illuminates a concept to a deeper understanding.

For so long control has been her only beacon in the darkness. The only way to see a path forward. Surge ahead, get to the finish line. Pass go, collect two-hundred.

If control is the survival, perhaps conceding it is the passion.

* * *

This is not the first loss Jamie has experienced, not by a long shot. It’s a fact of life really, she supposes. It wouldn’t do to let it touch her this time, even if it does prickle a little bit harder than most.

It was nothing she hadn’t dealt with in the past. She had her ways, she would get through this one too.

She regresses back to casual acquaintance with Dani, just as in those first few days. Up and out of bed a sliver of time before the siren blares to wake them, and out the door moments later. Not a word. Not a glance.

It wouldn’t serve to allow her emotions to be drawn into her big doe eyes, or be pulled into easy conversation.

She moves fast, efficiently. Dressed and out of the cell before Dani has a chance to rub the sleep from her eyes.

So efficient, in fact, that she’s first to brush her teeth and be off before the bathroom even fills with anyone else. She’s out and on her way to the greenhouse with the grumbling and groaning of tired women nipping at her heels.

This, perhaps, is not her most well thought plan, she fears. It doesn’t do to have a predictable schedule of solitude in here.

The anxiety of predictable patterns of behaviour butts up in her mind against the raw pain of having to spend any more time with Dani’s sad, disappointed eyes.

Still, it’s the most acceptable scenario for her. The easiest way to reinsulate her heart against the peace it had found. Such ease it found in Dani, such never before known to her.

Logically, in her mind, she knew the rejection was one based in will and authority. That was fair. A deeply understandable reaction, one Jamie might take herself if the situation were reversed. But in her heart, it stings as a much worse rejection, festering and, horrifyingly, seeping into her moods.

She finds she has to actively snap herself out of the incessant thoughts telling and retelling of her unworthiness, of her gall, of the absolute impossibility that Dani would want her, would be anything but repulsed.

It was stupid, anyway, it wasn’t a _real_ declaration. She had never intended it to be so. She was _really_ just making it so that Dani’s path might be tread a little bit lighter.

But it had felt good, she’ll admit, to pretend. The pretending was warm tea on a cold morning. It was a fresh dip on a blazing hot day. It was a hearty laugh at a funeral. Something she never knew she needed, wanted. Something that had drawn a line in her mind, a stark contrast of before and after.

And that was dangerous.

It was so dangerous to feel anything for anyone in here. She resolved to not, go cold turkey against Dani.

She would go back to feeling just for her plants. It had served her well in the past.

The greenhouse, heavy and damp, smelling of earth and nature, bright colours and raw dirt, was her true home here. She could never find the solitude it provided elsewhere, perhaps had for a few brief moments in her cell after Maggie had been removed. And again, perhaps in brief companionable silences with Dani. Not anymore, now it was filled with a sizzling tension she ached to escape.

Escape, she reflects, had never been so bittersweet.

She sinks down into the welcoming heat of the greenhouse, happy in the security of her own company for a few hours, but distinctly lacking the sweet lull it used to provide.

Her usual spot, at the opposite end of the greenhouse to Doris and Helen, is so familiar it’s like returning to an old friend. She knows this place, where her fertiliser is kept, where her seeds are stored, her wish list of flowers to try to plant, her band of current charges begging for attention. She gives it freely, tending to the best of her abilities, finding the perfect blend of essentials – sun, water, space – for each individual joyous species.

And yet, her azaleas are still dying.

She frowns, paces, reads, digs, fertilises, trims, stares. Nothing is working. Brown spots are consuming the leaves, marring her perfection.

She looks over to Doris and Helen, silently hoping for their expert attention, but they have eyes only for each other. Each time is a kick in the stomach for her, to see how Doris’ eyes alight as Helen signs to her. Jamie burns with jealousy at their easy interactions, at the dedication to each other. She has never seen them talk to a single other person in here. They have the most exuberant responses simply to each other.

She shelves the idea of asking for their help on each occasion, in part not wanting to break their spell, but more so because it hurts to even look at them.

They clock her though, three days into her new-found routine, sense her almost. Turn to catch her eye a mere moment before she turns back to her ruined flowers.

Doris moves toward her, swifter than she could have imagined at her advanced age, and Jamie begins to formulate an apology. She’s broken their unspoken agreement, intruded on personal moments between them.

Doris holds up a hand, waves her off, and bends to inspect her flower, frowning.

Jamie shifts her weight from foot to foot, anxious.

Doris smiles at her.

Jamie doesn’t know what that means. Begins to ask, and remembers that Doris, in fact, cannot hear her.

She crosses her hands over the plant.

Jamie doesn’t know what that means either.

“Leave it,” Helen translates, coming up beside Doris, accepting her warm smile. She tugs Doris back toward their corner, and Jamie’s heart clenches. “Let it heal.”

* * *

Prison wine, some call it. Others call it hooch. Jamie prefers not to call it anything at all.

It’s disgusting.

Mouldy bread, whatever fruits they can get their hands on, anything else they think will make the fermentation faster, stronger. Enough sugar to take down a diabetic elephant. Tasting just as good as it sounds.

And fucking _expensive._ The equivalent of Moët on the outside.

She had partaken on few occasions, mostly when Maggie acquired it. Bought it outright once or twice.

And sometimes, despite tasting like licking an expired yogurt, it’s absolutely worth the expense.

Sometimes you _just need to forget._

She had decided that afternoon, yard time, watching Sammy saunter up to Dani bold as brass, whisper something into her ear and dance away happily at the horrified expression she had caused.

Jamie had seethed. Walked her perimeter. Schooled her features. Watched Sammy’s path as she wandered through her playground, sprinkling her information.

She resolved not to touch her cigarettes, wanting nothing to do with Sammy or her drama, or Dani for that matter.

 _Dani is her own woman,_ she had thought, pounding the tarmac, _she can handle herself – had made that much painfully clear._

Though, when Dani caught her eye directly after, accidentally, Jamie hadn’t intended on being caught, the fear there struck Jamie cold.

She would not interfere. Not her place, is it? She doesn’t need any more fuss on her plate. Certainly, couldn’t handle any more rejection.

To see Dani let it in so easily though, that is a problem. She would end up regretting that.

And maybe that is Jamie’s fault, she thought, maybe if she _had_ understood that letting someone in meant more than the little bits and pieces she decided to dole out, Dani might actually have an ally here, instead of someone else she felt she had to avoid.

Jamie passes her payment over, a substantial amount of tobacco and a couple of packets of ramen, and accepts the heavy bag of wine with only a small pang of regret for the clearly bad deal she’s been done on.

That is future Jamie’s problem.

She skips out of dinner early, walks away only a few minutes after Dani’s tray pushes gently against her own. She doesn’t look at her, doesn’t meet her eyes, just nods back silently when Dani breathes, “hi,” to her.

The first word said between them in days.

Jamie is happy to have the hooch stored away behind her books, something to burn away the bubble of relief, of excitement, that has blinked into existence in her stomach at her word, acknowledgement.

She can feel Dani’s eyes follow her as she steps lightly back into her cell, and sets about killing the feeling of _liking_ that she’s watching her.

It’s not twenty minutes later, Jamie seven rancid hard-fought sips in, hears her coming before she sees her. The specific beat of her quick steps, outwalking the devil himself.

Her face is tight as she rushes in, breathes heavy, turns and faces Jamie languidly flopping on her top bunk. She opens her mouth once, twice, a third.

Jamie snickers. Laughs at how perfectly beautiful she is even in her frustration and confusion. “Alright?” she asks, not quite yet buzzed enough to chalk initiation up to the drink, but enough to convince herself it’s a good idea.

“Not really, no,” Dani replies, frowning, mouth pinched. “I don’t like this.”

“Not s’posed to like prison, Dani. ‘s the whole point.”

“Not prison, _this_.”

Jamie doesn’t respond.

“I – I mi– I have to tell you something,” she stammers.

Jamie’s heart spikes, and she suppresses it. Whatever Dani wants to tell her she’ll listen to. Her chest opens to accept it, knowing even as she does that she will have to purge it as soon as she’s alone again. A fresh fix for her addiction that she will accept, even now, in full awareness of the pain it will hold.

She aches to drink herself into oblivion instead, to want to want that instead of wanting Dani’s sweet voice to tell her anything.

She nods her assent.

“That– the woman from the yard today, you saw her with me?”

Jamie nods. Curious.

“She told me that– tha– that you’re in trouble.”

Jamie swallows. “Trouble.”

“Yeah, trouble. Said something about Maggie being out for you.”

“Out for me? That what she said?”

“Yeah, she said, ‘might want to tell your friend Maggie is out for her’.”

“Ah.” Jamie nods slowly, taking in the evident stress on her features. The tight pull of her lips, the quirk between her eyes, her arms crossed around her chest. “If I didn’t know any better, Dani, I’d say you were worried about little ol’ me.” She tips her bag of wine toward her, a cheers, before swallowing a greater swallow than before, shivering at the wince it provokes.

Dani’s eyes follow her movements, settling back on her face in quick fashion. “Stop that.”

“What? Drinkin’?”

“No, pretending you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Know that I care.”

Jamie lowers the bag, swallowing hard, and staring harder. Hands now on her hips, Dani stares back, eyes hard.

“Well, what are we going to do about this?” she asks, demanding a team answer to what appears to be a very individual problem.

Jamie, never truly lost for words, is pulled up short. “About you carin’?” Fuck if she has a clue, she’s avoided it, and it hasn’t worked. She was onto Solution Two now, booze, but sure now that she can feel it kicking in slightly, that it might be having the opposite effect.

“No!” Dani whispers furiously. She looks around intently, ensuring no one is near. “About Maggie!”

Jamie laughs. “Tell me, Dani, did you give Sammy anythin’ for this information?”

Dani frowns, “no, she just told me.”

“Sammy doesn’t give anythin’ for free.”

“I didn’t give her anything.”

“I watched you.”

“Then you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well then. You saw. I didn’t give her anything.” She examines Jamie, likely searching for signs of sobriety.

Jamie chuckles, “you gave her more than you know, Poppins.”

Dani’s face softens at the regression back into her nick name, hands fall from her hips, catch onto the bunk in front of her, a breath away from Jamie. “Tell me.”

Jamie resists the urge to sweep a strand of loose hair back behind her hear, to cup her cheek, swipe a thumb across her brow and unfurrow the worry lines. “You gave her your feelings,” she whispers.

Dani stares, swallows, unblinking, and Jamie could swear she feels the magnetic tension same as her. “My feelings?” she whispers.

“Sammy deals in information, Dani, you gave her that in payment. She wanted you to give me that message, but it’s no secret anyway. Already knew that. What she was looking for was how you feel about it.”

“Why?”

“Someone’s bought it from her.”

“Who? Who would want that?”

“Who do you think?”

Dani frowns, eyes her intently. “Fuck,” she whispers.

“’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” The booze was having a lightening effect on her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should worry about this. Right now though, basking in the glow of Dani’s attention and a full bag of oblivion, she can’t muster the energy.

Dani nods unconvincingly. Hardens. Moves to the ladder connecting their beds, and joins Jamie on top. She has her bag of wine before Jamie even has time to protest, and she laughs heartily at the face Dani makes as the vile liquor hits her tongue. _“Oh my God.”_

Jamie nudges her with a shoulder. “Hey now, this is the finest blend prison has to offer.”

“Hmm,” Dani ponders, “okay lemme try again.”

Jamie guffaws at her shiver, accepting the bag back as she tries to force her gulp down. “That tastes like feet.”

“Does it?” Jamie replies. “Can’t say I’m familiar.”

Dani rolls her eyes, accepting the next pass. “Fuck, I really messed up didn’t I?”

“Nah,” Jamie says, flippant. “Could be worse.”

“It could?”

Jamie shrugs, “could have declared your cellmate your wife without telling her.”

Dani laughs, “You were trying to help, I guess I just kind of freaked out.”

“No, you were right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Jamie’s unwilling to examine why she’s suddenly got butterflies. “Let’s just enjoy this, Poppins. Cost me a fuckin’ fortune.”

“You overpaid.”

Jamie smiles, sips, passes. Companionable conversation flowing in line with the drink. It’s enough for Jamie to forget, for this moment at least, how lonely she is. How much she wants to live instead of just survive. Dani, it would seem, feels the same. Her face is more animated than what she’d observed, albeit in sly glances, in days.

She knows her own demeanour screams the same, hopes to God Dani doesn’t recognise it as Jamie _wanting_ her, not entirely sure she can handle even the hint of more rejection.

“How’s your case shapin’ up?”

Dani puffs out a breath, “met with my lawyer today. He thinks the case is strong.”

“He’s on your side?”

“Yeah, of course?” she replies, confused.

“Lucky.” Jamie sips. “Court appointed?”

“No, actually my old boss.”

“You worked for a lawyer?”

“Yeah, I mean – well, his au pair. His kids, for his kids.”

Jamie snickers, “you didn’t au pair for a grown man? Not sure you’re doin’ it right.”

“Gross,” Dani complains, nudging into her shoulder. “No, I moved over after – And Henry employed me as an au pair.”

“After what?”

“What?”

“You said after.”

“Right – Um, well I was engaged.”

“The man you’re accused of –”

“Eddie.”

“Okay.”

“We broke up and I – I needed a change. You know? Just some place different.”

“Know the feelin’.”

“Yeah?”

Jamie takes an enthusiastic swig, avoiding her follow up. “What happened?”

“He came after me,” Dani replies softly. “I broke his heart. He came after me– no not like _violent,_ ” she clarifies at Jamie’s pointed look. “He promised me the world.”

“Hey,” Jamie murmurs passing her the bag, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

Dani takes it, draws a large mouthful, and swallows without a wince. “He just stepped out from the curb. A busy street. _One_ misstep. I swear, Jamie, _he stepped out._ ”

Jamie nods, throws an arm around her shoulder, brave in her comfort, needing to ease Dani’s pain. “Someone’s said it was you?”

Dani nods. _“Someone.”_

“Mixed up in some shite?”

Dani chuckles, leaning into her. “Kinda seems like my thing now.”

“Must break you out of that, you’ll do us both in!”

Dani laughs, quieting after a moment. Passing Jamie the wine. “I’ve missed you,” Dani whispers, connecting to the exact vibration of Jamie's heart.

Jamie, for the first time in days, feels free. Feels like her world is maybe stabilising on its axis, finally. Feels her head is above water, so why, she wonders, can she not breathe with the way Dani is looking at her? “Me too,” she whispers back, the words whirling through the heaviness lingering in the air.

Dani closes the distance between them before she can register what’s happening, the wine having slowed her reactions.

Though, while it might slow her reactions, it does nothing to dull her feelings. Her senses. Her skin is on fire, the hairs on the back of her neck on end. Electricity rippling beneath the surface of her heart.

She meets Dani’s kiss hungrily, clashing in tandem with her lips, her tongue, her teeth biting a plump lip, and earning her a delicious moan that she swallows.

She pulls her in close with the arm already around her shoulders, feels Dani’s own hands slide around her waist, feels her shift and kneel, and pull away for a single second.

Jamie’s blood runs cold at the brief break between them, her eyes open just long enough to catch Maggie, leaning against the open plan door, watching her with intent.

She swallows. “Dani,” she mumbles, “Dani stop.”

“What?” she asks, breathless, rebuffed. She turns and sees Jamie’s own fear, and freezes.

“Oh no!” Maggie booms, “I don’t mean to interrupt. Please continue. Rather hot. I fear I’ve killed the mood before it really gets good.”

Jamie shoves the wine into Dani’s hands, jumps swiftly from the bed, infinitely thankful that her legs hold her. “Get out,” she demands.

“What? Out of here? Don’t forget, Taylor, this was my house first.” She takes a dangerous step toward Jamie, dark eyes narrow and unforgiving.

“What d’you want?” Jamie asks, desperate to cut through the shite. Maggie thrives on the bullshit, Jamie had learned early to cut her off in her stride.

“What do I _want_?” Her eyes bore holes into Jamie. “I was sent down _for you!_ ”

“No. You were sent down for you.”

Maggie flings her head back and laughs. “You think I could abide that _bitch_ putting hands on you when the cell block knows you’re mine? It’s _disrespectful!_ ”

“I’m not _yours._ ”

“You _are._ ”

“I never was.”

“Well, you are now,” she thrusts her hand out, into Jamie’s chest, pushing her back into the bunk.

Jamie hears Dani gasp and move to jump down from the bunk, but Jamie’s heart is sinking. She flings an arm out holding Dani in spot, where she sways just a little. She stares at the small baggie of white pills Maggie is pinning to her right breast.

“No,” she grounds out the word, sure and feral. “No!”

“Take them.”

“No!”

“Jamie,” Dani whispers softly, “Jamie, don’t.”

“Shut up!” Maggie turns, inching for a moment toward Dani.

Jamie steps forward, pushes her arm away, and squares her jaw. “No.”

Maggie smirks, walks backward a couple of steps. “Bad choices Taylor, keep making them. You’ll see.”

Jamie folds in on herself, collapses on Dani’s bed, head in hands, a moment after she leaves. “ _Fuck_!”

“Jamie,” Dani kneels, hands on her knees. “What is she goi– what are we going to do?”

Jamie shakes her head, pushing the sinking feeling in her stomach down, smiling lightly instead at Dani’s worried face. “Nothin’ Poppins,” she drawls, exhaustion sweeping over her, from stress, from Maggie, from hooch, “I’ll fix it. _You_ work on clearing your name.” She tucks that same loose strand behind her ear, “we’ll take it one day at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blown away by all your lovely comments! 
> 
> Once again feedback is absolutely welcome! Errors, comments, suggestions, gay rage. Hit me with it. :)


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Officially an E (probably a light E considering the other smut I've put into the world, but an E nonetheless). 
> 
> TR for a small smidge of violence and the want of a bit of consent for the last page break (really really super light though). If it's something you want to avoid, it's not a problem, skip that part and I'll just tell you what you need to know in the comments.

_She tucks that same loose strand behind her ear, “we’ll take it one day at a time.”_

Dani ducks her head, and Jamie sees the acceptance in her eyes. The way she crinkles her forehead, and worries her lip on one side with her teeth. The acceptance of the brutality of prison marring her beautiful features.

“Hey,” Jamie whispers, reaching out, cupping a cheek.

Dani shakes her head. “I’m so sorry Jamie. I’m so sorry.”

“’s not your fault Dani.”

“I should have – shouldn’t have,” she shakes her head, confused.

And Jamie is surprised, that even with the ice cold terror, the surety she will not make it out of this without time added, that she finds the quizzical expression adorable on her.

Realistically, she finds any expression adorable on her. A face made to wear a thousand emotions.

“Dani,” she breathes lightly, but sure. “It’s not your fault. It’s _mine._ ”

“ _How?”_ she asks. “How could this be your fault? You tried to help, you tried to tell me, I made it so much worse.”

“No, _I_ made it worse,” Jamie sighs. “Look, you don’t belong here, Dani. You just don’t. You belong in the world, teaching and au pairing and – and making a _life_. This _place_ , how could you ever have known?

“Normal people don’t need to know this shite. Normal people don’t need to question every move, every interaction. Learn how to see through people and never fuckin’ give people the benefit of face value. Get your face slashed for a one night stand or trade cigarettes to find out if you’ve made someone’s list today.

“You couldn’t have known, couldn’t have assumed, fresh in, that I wasn’t doing you over.”

Dani blinks, taken aback. “What makes you think I’m one of those normal people? I’m here, same as you, that’s what you told me. Why do you think I’m any different? That I can’t handle this place?”

“I told you that because we’re both in the same place, Dani, not that we deserve to be.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispers.

“You’re innocent. Actually fucking innocent.”

Dani shakes her head, tears welling in her sea blue eyes, and Jamie cracks just a little. “I deserve this.”

“What?” Jamie swipes a tear from her cheek.

“If it wasn’t for me Eddie would be alive – if – if we hadn’t, if I hadn’t broken up with him, or ran halfway across the world he wouldn’t have come. He wouldn’t have died.” More tears fall, pulling Jamie down with them.

Jamie shakes her head, pulls Dani in closer, wraps her in the hug she’d wished for a thousand times growing up. She feels the tip of her cold nose nuzzle into her neck and closes her eyes, pretending that just for a second this was normal. They were free. There wasn’t a thousand reasons beating down around them to break apart, go it alone, save themselves. “That’s not your fault Dani, people are responsible for their own choices.” Even as she says the words she feels their weight.

She’d said no to Maggie, she would be responsible for whatever was to come.

Dani doesn’t reply, and Jamie is not sure if she believes her. They stay like that until Dani shifts uncomfortably, pulling away with a sheepish look and a, “my knees…”

Jamie grins, quirks a brow, receives the desired chuckle and eye roll.

Dani pushes her forward lightly, and confused, Jamie lies back, stretching out over Dani’s not-quite-a single bed. Dani settles herself, pressed against the wall, mostly on top of her, and Jamie’s heart stops.

Her skin tingles with how close they are, how she can feel hot breath on her neck, how every inch of her frame is pressed against Dani’s. She swallows hard, willing herself to settle, her heart to regulate.

Dani kisses her lightly, cupping a cheek with a hand, and pulls back. Regretfully Jamie lets her, though she wants nothing more in the world to not. It’s not the time, it’s not the place. The booze has made her movements heavy, lethargic, her thoughts sporadic.

She knows though, that not pursuing her is right, is the correct thing to do, especially when she feels the hot tears spill over her throat, where Dani rests in the crook of her neck. She pulls her closer, shushing her and cooing her gently into sleep.

* * *

It’s six weeks they get. Six weeks just shy of bliss. Rather, just shy of what Jamie can fathom bliss to be, having never quite achieved it as far as she can recall.

She doesn’t expect much from it, hopes for more than what she has any right to, given her entire purpose of being here is a punishment.

And a punishment it is. A punishment that she is unable to take her time, unable to give herself fully in a way where freedom buoys her up without the shackles of speeding moments and whip quick eyes weighing them down. She accepts that there will always be a sense of urgency around them, a sense of fatalism.

Dani transforms her ominous energy into something peaceful and light. Something she’s only found amongst the vibrant blues and purples of her flowers. The feeling she gets when something is growing at her behest, when she helps to coax life out of the dirt.

Dani is coaxing life out of her in all the colours it was truly intended. All the colours Jamie has been denying herself.

She curses herself constantly, wishing and wishing she had met Dani outside of this poison place, outside where they could maybe be free, maybe have some sort of hope. Where she could take her time without the heavy sizzle of separation between them.

One way or another they would be separated. If lucky, Dani would be out in two months – her case zipping along nicely, according to her fancy city lawyer. If she lost, well, she would rather not think on that at all. Two months, she chooses to believe, two more months for her and that’s all. Her soul will escape immaculate and untarnished.

And Jamie will still be in. With no time added, their separation would be four months. Four months, as long as they’d known each other. Jamie is no fool, people change. The sands of time constantly leaning a person this way or that. She has no real hope of ever keeping the electrifying beauty.

In here, that’s what they had. And what chance did they really stand? Eyes watching them all the time, people picking apart their every look and gesture and glimpse of affection.

A fishbowl of judgement, of slip ups and loss and gain. One false move and they would be pummelled right back into the dirt she draws shoots from. Plant food.

And it’s scary, it’s so scary to Jamie, in a stomach tumbling, chest singing, head rush kind of way, that with a single twist of her lips, lift of a brow, loaded stare, she simply forgets.

She can forget, for a brief moment, just how fucked up it is to feel so wonderful in such a terrible place.

Jamie’s been around, she knows the tricks, knows the places.

For example, she knows that during recreation, in the sliver of time after lunch and before yard, that if she sneaks into the third door on the left on her way to Tamara’s office, she’ll find a mostly empty custodians’ closet – the mops having all been taken away to clean up after lunch.

She knows that while the custodians are very good and efficient at their jobs, if you lock people up like animals, they will often demonstrate that in their behaviour, and this will severely impact how long it takes to clean.

It’s rough, it’s quick and it’s dirty. It’s nothing like their first time.

_“Jamie,” Dani had called up to her, just after lights out on the second night since their drunken kiss._

_Jamie hadn’t put much stock in the kiss. Had really been avoiding anything more intimate than a casual shoulder squeeze when she'd looked particularly haunted. It had tipped her world upside down, though, set a shiver from the top of her head right down to her toes, forced open a small piece of her chest where a hope lived._

_Despite the spark of hope, in the stark light of the day, with Maggie’s eyes roving over her, and Debbi at her side, it was easy to forget just how good it felt. A deep well of kneading anxiety replaced it._

_“Yeah?” she’d replied, mouth dry. It wasn’t uncommon for Dani to call for her into the darkness, for Jamie to reply and assuage her fears, but there was something in her voice Jamie couldn’t quite put her finger on._

_Dani didn’t reply, simply stood and grabbed onto her arm, and tugged._

_Jamie slipped from her top bunk and right into Dani’s bed without another word. Dani’s mouth covered her own, hungry and seeking._

_Jamie obliged her, let her take, take, take. Her heart swelling with each fresh movement, with each time Dani’s roved over her back, her ribs, her waist. Blazing trails up to her breasts where Dani’s live wire hands settled, and Jamie gasped._

_Jamie was on fire, Dani too if the shallow gasps she tried to hold back were any indication._

_Her hips had started rocking against Jamie’s own almost immediately, sure in their need._

_Jamie nipped at her neck, soothing the skin with quick kisses, frantic in her own desire. The throb controlling the rhythm of her hips as they moved in tandem with Dani’s._

_She had wanted this for an age, for forever. Dani, electrified and broken, she had wanted nothing more than to make her come apart beneath her._

_A particularly overzealous nip on her collarbone forced a groan from Dani, and Jamie froze, covering Dani’s mouth with her hand and giving her a pointed look._

_A brief glance back to the cell opening told her they were still alone, their stolen moment still untouched._

_Wickedly, wantonly, still covering her mouth, Jamie looked Dani in the eye, and rocked her hips desperately into her. The hot breath let loose on her palm drove her on, the darkness of her eyes and nails on her ribs spurred faster rocking, faster panting._

_Jamie removed her hand, captured Dani’s mouth in a blazing kiss, pulled into her body by needy desperate arms and soft, delectable moans. “Jamie,” she whispers, breaking away._

_And Jamie delighted in it, in her name on such a woman’s lips. It pained her, but she breathed back a soft, “shh, Poppins.” Though for all the world she would have liked nothing more than to make Dani scream as she made her come, for her name to fall amidst filth from her lovely mouth as she loses more and more of herself in their passion._

_That’s not for them though, that is for free people, and Jamie is not free._

_She can’t give her that, the unbidden raw vocalisations of pleasure, or a complex array of moving parts, or even the uninhibited shedding of clothes she craved._

_But she can give her what she does have, a combined expertise of confined spaces, keeping quiet and deft fingers._

_Jamie kisses her again, running her tongue lightly along her bottom lip, delighting in the inhale when she bites._

_She shifts, trails her hand down Dani’s neck, over a uniform clad breast, over the soft muscles of her stomach, and trails it lightly along the waistband of her trousers._

_Dani’s breath hiccups, fingers grip tight against her top, and Jamie grins, presses her lips into Dani’s again, welcomed by her warm, soft mouth._

_It wasn’t perfect. Cramped and awkward, and desperately frustrating, but there in that moment, kissing Dani’s perfect mouth, her fingers inching into her waistband, down, down, finding soft slick warmth and swallowing the absolute relief of Dani’s soft groan, it was perfect. Absolute perfection. Dani was perfect. It was more than Jamie could dream of._

_She rocked lightly against Dani’s leg, her hand sliding down to grip a hip and pull her into a faster rhythm as Jamie explored._

_She was soft, and wet, and so ready for her. She would have been taken aback if she hadn’t been so totally and completely lost in a fog of desire. Jamie took her time, eliciting as much pleasure in the moment as she could for Dani._

_“Shh,” she breathed, whisper quiet when Dani’s breathy moans become just a notch too loud, right as Jamie’s nimble fingers picked up just the right rhythm for her, had her hips jerking._

_She nodded against her, a husky, “okay, keep going, keep –” and Jamie, grinning in spite of herself dipped forward, cutting her words off._

_Her fingers worked diligently, and she delighted in their prize, each pass working more and more tension into Dani’s body, into her own body, until Dani’s kiss breaks away, eyes closed and head thrown back against her pillow, a shallow gasp issued from her as her hips stuttered under Jamie’s attention._

The high of watching Dani climax beneath her, the _feeling_ of her climaxing around her, is one she has been chasing ever since.

Dani, it seems, has felt much the same way, pulling Jamie into her own shower cubicle the very next day during the dinner hour. Dani, doing wicked, wonderful things with her tongue, imparting on Jamie a feeling of such completeness, such full pleasure, dedication to Jamie’s enjoyment. She had come undone faster than she had any right to, and Dani, sweet, delightful Dani had stood, bold as brass and _smirking._

Well, if Jamie hadn’t had to just lick that right from her mouth, work Dani up into a frenzy of her own, startling when fellow inmates had collected in the bathroom for their own evening showers.

Giggling quietly, they had extracted themselves from each other with pounding hearts and slipped out one at a time while the others were distracted.

They had taken as many moments as Jamie would allow, though quite sure they were both completely fucked at this stage, she still set barriers between them. Boundaries they could not cross.

They would not hold hands in the yard, walk together in the yard, look directly at each other in the yard.

They would eat at the same table, but without excessive conversation.

They would wait until lights out for Jamie to slip into Dani’s bed. Making sure to be extra quiet, perfecting their constricted exploration of each other.

And sometimes, like today, they would take advantage of Jamie’s observations, and sneak into the custodian’s closet, unlocked she knows while the lunch rush is cleaned up.

Delightfully, thrillingly, sometimes Dani struggles still with the essence of their need for quiet, unintentionally moaning just a bit too loud.

And sometimes, Jamie thinks, she does it on purpose. Likes the way it makes the blood in Jamie’s veins heat while it strikes a delicious panic in her stomach.

“Jamie,” she moans, pulling her in close, weaving a hand into her hair, the other on the small of her back.

“Shhh!” Jamie says, glancing over to the door handle. Heart racing.

“It’s okay,” she whispers.

Jamie shakes her head, _it’s really not._ She kisses her neck, revelling in the hips that buck and cant against the hand she has pressed into Dani’s pants. She’s lost, her head in a fog of Dani, and as much as she hates her being loud during their brief encounters, as much as it makes her sweat and spikes anxiety through her, she _fucking loves_ it too. Loves the small, high pitched noises she can’t help.

Jamie pulls back, slips her hand into Dani’s pants, meeting familiar, delightful, wetness, and works her hand down, and in. She catches Dani’s gasp with her other hand, quickly covering her mouth, as her eyes squeeze shut, and Jamie feels teeth nipping at her flesh.

“Told you, you’re goin’ to have to be quiet, Dani.” Jamie murmurs, teasing her opening with a finger, barely dipping in and out, smirking. “Think you can do that for me?”

Dani’s eyes blaze, catching on. She nods. “Good girl,” she smiles, sinking into her, fast and hot. She feels Dani’s breath catch against her hand, delighting in the rapid beat of it as she fucks her.

Taking her hand away, she smiles, places a swift kiss on her lips, removes her hand, catching the waistband and pulling as she falls to her knees.

Dani gasps.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jamie whispers. “Only if you’re good and quiet,” she tells her, removing one of the legs from Dani’s ankle.

Dani nods, and Jamie is on her in a beat of her frantic heart, eager for a taste. Bold, even for them, during the day, in an unlocked room.

Her tongue hits home to a desperately suppressed moan from Dani, whose hand comes up to replace Jamie’s.

Jamie smiles around her work, meeting each thrust of her hips with vigour, and sliding her fingers back into her warmth.

Dani’s hand falls into her curls, tangles sharply in her hair, set sparks flying through her, igniting her own arousal.

She licks, and fucks and holds Dani steady as she meets each thrust of her fingers, following her hand and desperate for more.

Jamie lets out her own strangled moan, at the thought of Dani fucking herself onto Jamie's hand. She wishes beyond belief that they had a room, a bed a place where they could do this properly, do it without a severe timeline, without the worry of getting caught or taking drips and drabs of what they know is a deep well.

Dani meets her eyes at her moan, riding her fingers and crinkling her brow each time Jamie swipes her tongue over her clit. Her breath hitches and Jamie knows she’s close.

Jamie doubles down, works her fingers harder, faster. Her jaw is aching, but she’s determined to feel Dani’s legs shake, for her to clench around her fingers and her hips jerk into her mouth.

And she does, _quickly._ Jamie catches her as her knees buckle, placing a soft kiss on her giggling lips.

“Do we have time?” she whispers, leaning forward to flick the waistband of Jamie’s pants.

Jamie’s heart clenches at the hope in her eye, she stamps the deep disappointment she feels down as she shakes her head. “Custodians will be back any minute, Poppins.” She smiles sadly, throbbing, disappointed.

“Later,” Dani says, dropping a quick kiss on her lips, righting herself. “Promise.”

* * *

It will end in flames. It just will. It always does. Jamie knows it. It's a fact of life. Just how things go.

Her mother and father were the same. Sizzling attraction that fizzled out promptly. People are only loyal for as long as they’re getting what they want, what they need.

Countless faceless couples visiting the group home, searching for a kid to piece back together their fractured relationship, to have something between them to feed and clothe and restore that sense of need.

Foster homes where the needs and wants are entirely different but also very much the same. A few quid for taking her in, shoved into a room not fit for purpose, the lingering eyes, it’s all the same. All the same. The fracture, the fix, the pain.

Not worth it, in Jamie’s eyes. Has never been. Keep moving, that was her way, her philosophy.

She finds it funny how, in all that time, years of foster care and London, and priming herself to outsmart every fucker who thought _their_ love is special, _theirs_ is the one that will last, that’s she absolutely forgotten in the space of six short weeks just that very tactic.

It had to come crashing down eventually. It was the way.

Jamie saunters into the bathroom, no rush about her. Her bubble of home repelling the grim yellowing stone walls, the dripping sinks and the oppressive silence.

It’s only when she’s a couple of meters into the room that she realises that the oppressive silence is exceedingly odd for the morning.

She hasn’t been an early riser since before Dani had taken to pulling her into her bed. The warm nights in the cold cell were some of the best Jamie had ever had, and that in and of itself was perhaps the saddest part. That she could forget her carefully laid life philosophies, not ones born on fanciful potentialities, but of hard-earned experience.

That was a mistake.

Strong arms slam her into the wall behind her, pressing her into the cold, the unyielding hard.

Maggie’s dark eyes shine in the dim luminescence, wide and entranced by their price.

Jamie looks around her quickly, Debbi, seething, is lounging against the wall across from her. The others are blocking the doorway. Planned and prepared for.

“Jamie,” Maggie murmurs, leaning in and sliding her nose up a cheek, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I told you this would happen.”

Sweat beads on the back of her neck, adrenaline spiking angrily through her limbs. She pushes at Maggie’s waist with her free hands but she’s smaller, Maggie with the better angle. Maggie slams her back into the rock, knocking the wind out of her slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she tells her, cold.

“What d’you want, Maggie?” Jamie mumbles, trying to keep her voice even.

It’s not the worst situation she’s been in, not by a long shot, but it’s up there with the most desperate she’s ever been.

Maggie laughs, heartily and manically. “You Jamie, don’t you get it? You’re mine.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” she gasps, inching as far away from Maggie’s face as much as she can.

Maggie’s knee makes contact with the soft of her belly before Jamie can anticipate, and she wheezes out a breath, held in place by Maggie’s arms. Her eyes are hard, mouth tight and quirking maliciously. She can hear Debbi snicker as she tries to catch her breath. “Do _not_ disrespect me, Jamie. I’ve been good to you.”

Jamie stays silent, doesn’t move a muscle. Just breathes. Desperate to diffuse the situation. Elude and evade has been her way of ensuring survival. She’s had physical encounters, certainly, but her stature is such that she would rather give her licks than take them.

“Haven’t I?” Her breath washes over Jamie’s face, a reminder of a before that she would rather forget, of countless nights with the same scent in her nose, the same dark eyes in her mind, the same hands pinning her. Pleasures taken over pain given. How quickly someone can turn.

“Maggie, we had an arrangement,” she chokes out past the dull pain in her belly.

Maggie laughs. “See Jamie, that’s where you’re fucking wrong. I _allowed_ you to get away with your shit. Your solo wanderer shit. Your _above this place_ shit. You’re a good shag, that’s why you were left to do whatever the fuck it is you do.”

“Know that Maggie, that’s _an arrangement._ ”

Another knee to her belly has her coughing out air she had fought to fill her lungs. _“Don’t be disrespectful.”_ Maggie slams her back into the wall, punctuating each word with a heavy shove.

Jamie is seething. She had promised herself long ago that she would not be thrown around by anyone, least of all some prison scum like Maggie. Her palms itched to welcome her fingers in a fist, knuckles ached to make contact with a cheekbone, a rib, anywhere.

But it is four against one, and she does not know just what they were packing, so she resists. Stays silent, still as the night.

“But,” Maggie’s tone softens, her features smoothing over, “I suppose if that’s what you’d rather.”

Her lips catch Jamie’s, soft and warm, but her force is hard and Jamie’s head slams back into the wall behind her in her repulsion. Maggie follows, pursuit lead by tongue. Jamie clenches her teeth and pushes hard against her chest. “Get off it, Maggie! Fuck’s sake.” 

Maggie grins, “have it your way then.” She reels a fist back, and Jamie can feel it before she even has a chance to dodge, get clear. Her cheek is on fire, ears ringing. She hits the floor, leaves herself open to a kick, moves to roll away – a practiced move from her teenage years, but it’s been a while since she’s had to use it and she’s too slow. Her legs are knocked from under her, forehead resting on the ground.

Debbie is giggling in the background, her footsteps rushing over to join.

Jamie grits her teeth, relieved when she hears Maggie tell her to _fuck off,_ not quite so relieved to hear, _she’s mine._

She leans down, grabs her hair and pulls, turning Jamie’s head to meet her eyes. “Always available for the second option whenever you’re ready to drop the bimbo. Until then,” she pulls out a clear package, ten small white pills inside, “I’ll collect on Monday.”

Jamie clenches her jaw, doesn’t speak. Hatred rolls through her in disgusting, sickening waves. She wants nothing more than to slam her face into the unyielding tile.

Maggie stands, walks over to the doorway where Jamie has heard a constant stream of complaining, of _it’s the fucking bathroom,_ and _move!_

She turns, looks back at Jamie, smirks. “Oh, and Jamie? If you don’t have the goods, I’m sure your wife will pay your debt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pandemic is killing my social life, but kind of doing wonders for this fic. 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading! How much of a dick is Maggie? Who wants to punch Debbi? Will they ever have enough time to have the honeymoon phase sex marathon they deserve? 
> 
> Tell me your feeeeelings.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your hats for a bit of an angsty ride. (not that kind of ride)

Jamie scrapes herself from the floor as soon as she hears Debbi’s last receding footsteps. She swipes the pills, grimacing at the pain shooting through her chest, before any of the waiting women can see them, and stows them up her sleeve.

The cool plastic presses against the heat of her skin, foreign and unwanted for a moment, before acclimatising to her body temperature. Welcoming her in, once again, to a life she thought she has fought so hard to escape.

The drugs have gone undetected by the other women, practiced as Jamie is in concealment, but they _do_ see her. Some avert their gaze shiftily, regretting any possible connection they might have with an incident, desperate to avoid future entanglements – the smart ones who may yet find they’ll get out on time. Others leer and chuckle, watching as swipes at her sore cheek, thankful to no skin broken.

She grits her teeth against the shame pooling in her belly. Being caught the way she had is for amateurs. Jamie had been in the game for a long time. Rule number one: watch your back or someone will have it. How dopily she had strolled into the bathroom, as if she were truly free without a care in the world. That is not her lot in life. She is a prisoner, just as she had been before and would continue to be. Locked up away from the world with the other travesties of society.

Except Dani.

Her chest clenched painfully at Maggie’s last warning, her mind assaulting her with images of Dani curled on the dirty bathroom floor in her place. Of Maggie’s blows knocking the wind out of her. Or worse, more time added before she can even get a chance to prove herself innocent. She couldn’t let anything happen to her now.

No. This is Jamie’s problem and Jamie will deal with it. She had made her bed, and now she would sleep in it. Alone.

She makes her way swiftly, despite her pain, into her cell, extracting the packet of pills and stowing them under her pillow. A quick look around tells her she’s clear, no one will come near her for a few minutes anyway, not if they think it’ll get them mixed up with Maggie or Debi.

She’s loath to leave such valuable wares in her cell, but it would be ludicrous to keep them on her, she’d been stopped often enough for spot checks, guards snivelling down at her to turn out her pockets, mark her off their checkboards as having passed – regretfully. The pills would do there until she could figure out what to do with them.

She sits on Dani’s bed, head in hands, and lets the worries flow in. The weight and exhaustion of it all overcomes her.

How the fuck is she supposed to get rid of a bag of pills?

She knows offhand who the typical quick hits are, usually can be found too strung out to notice what’s going on around them, too traumatised from whatever they have to do to get the pills in the first place, killing their demons the best they know how.

That is not Jamie’s cup of tea, she has better ways to kill her demons. Those who do partake are usually to be counted on to hang around and badger the dealers until they either get a smack or a screw gets a sniff. A slippery slope to more time. Selling to them is like raising a hand and asking to be locked in segregation.

Anger, furious ropes of anger, curl unpleasantly in her stomach, making it hard to breath. She wants to throw something, smash something, wail.

She had tried so hard, so fucking hard, to keep her nose clean, to follow the rules as much as she deemed reasonable. She had gotten a hobby, she’d done everything she could to stay out of the drug game, even worked on _letting someone in._

Jamie scoffs into her hands, how stupid she had been to want, to let herself believe she could achieve more than this.

A better life, that’s all it’s ever been about. Not even a magical life, or the _best_ life. A boring steady life, that’s all she needs. A little job and a place to lay her head, _freely_. All she’s ever needed.

It’s too much to ask for, worse still she’s pulled Dani into her mess.

The mean twist, the toxic inevitability of it, the _sureness_ of it, churns within her. Something within her has always known that she’s poison, and this is what poison people get.

She accepts the roiling sickness in her belly that tells her it’s what she deserves, she’s done this to herself, that people like her don’t deserve redemption. Her past sins enough for lifelong condemnation.

People like her don’t just elevate themselves to reformation.

She stands, trying not very hard to convince herself that the ache in her belly is from Maggie’s knees.

* * *

She doesn’t look up from her workstation in the greenhouse, choosing instead to focus on her plants. Watering and feeding, pruning and trimming, breathing life into the one thing in the world she ever had any success in developing, helping to flourish.

Today the plants, even as they stand at attention, their petals happily unfurled before her, are not enough to quell the ache within her. The work is busy though, and helps keep her mind on track, allowing it less tangents and funnelling her limited time into planning, a solid path forward out of the wasteland.

She knows there’s not too much hope of her getting out of this without her name being passed around amongst the prisoners as someone with product, which in and of itself is not outright damning. In some respects, it may make her role easier now. Instead of having to find buyers they will find her.

But it _is_ worrying, and even the thought of it feels like being pulled asunder. To be known in prison is not a good thing. It gives anyone with information power over her, which resolutely goes against every survival instinct she has. It takes only one rat who isn’t satisfied to ruin her.

She would have to be careful about moving the goods. A much safer option to weasel out the users who were well connected, those who wouldn’t be too dependent on only her. She cannot afford them to get too comfortable. Unfortunately, this option puts her at the mercy of whoever’s territory she’s moving into.

She would take a beating over a snitch any time.

Six months to go now, six more months of dealing with this inhumane drama day in day out, being pulled in opposite directions and waiting for _something_ to give. The finish line in sight spurred her on, and for that to hang her date on even a single unsatisfied user is unacceptable.

She will be selective in her selling.

She considers, briefly, telling Tamara. It’s scrapped, thrown in the waste with the empty packs of fresh soil, almost as soon as it flits through her mind. What could Tamara possibly do? Besides, she was no rat. Would she really be able to live with herself if that were the route she took?

No, she would have to bear the brunt of this.

There _had_ been another option presented. Could she do that? Fall back into Maggie’s cold bed after finally finding her sweet warm home?

A horrible thought, truly. Even the thought of it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Could she turn her feelings off, have meaningless sex with Maggie? Probably.

Could she do it without feeling sick to her stomach, ashamed and dirty? No.

Could she look at the pain it caused Dani to see her do it? _Definitely_ not. She couldn’t look at that hurt and know it came from her.

The thought is banished with a heavy breath and a shake of her head, a prickle behind the eyes needing to be cut off before it grows. It’s as ludicrous as telling Tamara.

A shadow in the corner of her vision catches her, Doris appearing at her side while she’s lost in thought.

Jamie jumps away from her, but the woman grabs her by the arm, eyes intent on her throbbing cheek. She knew it would look a sight, knew it as soon as she felt Maggie’s fist crash into her. Even now can feel how swollen, how tight the skin feels around it.

The older woman’s concerned eyes turn to her own, and she shakes her head before returning back to Helen, worry etched on her features. Helen accepts Doris back to their shared workspace with a clutch of her hand on a shoulder.

Jamie grounds her teeth together. She doesn’t need their sympathy, or their judgement or whatever it is. She turns her attention back to her plants, simmering in self-pity and anger.

* * *

Dani catches her in the hallway after their morning activities. Much sooner than she had expected, heartbreakingly sooner.

Her plan is solid, an unbreakable, unshakable necessity. If she can pull herself out of this one, she’ll be lucky. She needs to push Dani into the lifeboat first, before she can swim to safety. Even so, a couple more hours would have been nice.

“Oh my God,” she gushes, pulling her into her space by the arm and the collar.

“Dani,” Jamie struggles, supressing the painful groan trying to force its way out of her aching chest and looking around for witnesses. “Dani let go.”

“What happened?” she asks, low and unwavering, ignoring the bite Jamie’s let leak into her voice.

Jamie shakes her head, “tripped in the greenhouse.”

“You tripped in the greenhouse?” She doesn’t believe her. The press of her lips, the hands that had immediately returned to her hips. The searching eyes.

Jamie sighs. “It’s alright.”

“Bullshit.”

“It is Dani, it’s not your problem.”

“If it’s your problem, it’s my problem.”

Jamie looks her in the eye, the prettiest blue eyes she ever got lost in. It was absolutely not her problem. Her only problem was getting mixed up in this in the first place. In Jamie having ever tarnished her with her shit show. “It’s really not, Dani.” She shakes her head.

“If someone’s hurt you…” she trails off, leaving it open for Jamie to fill in the blanks, and Jamie chuckles mirthlessly, because really, she just can’t fill anything in there.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. I’m sortin’ it.” She pulls away from her. Wills the strength into herself to really _pull away_ from her, to not be side-tracked by just how full her heart feels to be close, to have her own little world filled with the illumination of Dani’s.

“What are you sorting? What are you talking about, Jamie?” Her voice is rising, tension wrought within the speech.

“Nothin’, God,” Jamie swipes a hand over her face. “Look. Just focus on yourself, okay? It’s fine. Where are you off to? Tamara?”

“Um, yeah. Wait. What do you – focus on myself?” she asks, confused.

Jamie is fucking this up. “Yeah, just focus on yourself,” she grits out. “Forget about me.”

Dani blinks, shakes her head, blinks. “Are you – do you mean…?”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean, Dani.”

And she walks. She walks away from the most perfect thing to ever happen to her, just in time before anyone can really catch them. Inmates are flooding out of the day room for their recreational time and she can’t bear to have others witness the destruction that is her life.

She gives silent thanks to whatever good luck charm is hanging over Dani that she’s got Tamara’s to escape to, to hide the tears Jamie knows she’s caused.

* * *

Yard has a purpose today, a purpose not unlike that with which she had previously charged herself.

She watches.

Has been watching for almost forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of ignoring the misery welling inside of her, the loss of Dani, the hurt caused, the tremulous task yet before her. The absolute nothingness that her life is screeching toward.

She watches, and it’s a good distraction, something to keep focused on, but it’s not entirely like before, she’s not looking for those watching her now, or those that would usually be on her radar to keep track of. No more point in that, she well aware of her position on the shit list.

She watches for the slinkers and the skulkers, for the people popping up every now and then, the slide of hand and the rushing steps.

Targets.

It sickens her to be in this game. She’d never been a fan of it. Had seen more than her fair share on the streets. Lives ruined, families torn apart.

She pushes the weight of the guilt down. Paves over the hole it leaves in her chest with reassurances she doesn’t believe – _at least they’re only hurting themselves, at least there’s a medical wing, it’s them or Dani._

“Oi oi!”

Jamie doesn’t stop in her roaming, but does give her attention to Sammy, limping stiffly up beside her.

“Got a fag?”

“No,” Jamie replies.

She’s not in the mood today for Sammy, for anyone really. Her heart is torn, ripped down the middle right in two. The only thing keeping it together is the knowledge that it would hurt worse for Dani to be in her position.

For Dani to have been given Maggie’s alternative option. Jamie clenches her fist at the thought, at the wicked lick of fury that tears through her.

“Think you do,” Sammy replies easily.

She has information.

Jamie puffs out a breath, pulls her packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and gives Sammy one.

“And a spare?” Sammy pushes.

“No.” Jamie replies, hard.

Sammy laughs. “Can’t blame a girl for tryin’.”

“What’s it Sammy?” Jamie grits out.

Sammy’s eyes are alight. “Oh, so it’s true then.”

Jamie curses inwardly, knows better than to let Sammy into her emotions. “Yeah, I got roughed up by Maggie this morning. It’s true. You already know. What d’you want?”

“I think,” Sammy laughs, sucking her cigarette down after a quick light, “it’s what do _you_ want.”

_I already have more than I could want._

“Jus’ tell me.”

“My, my, my, someone’s impatient. You’d think taking a lickin’ like that would make you settle down a bit.”

“Not the first fight I’ve been in, Sammy, no need to act like I’ve just popped my cherry.” Jamie increases her speed, makes Sammy work to keep up. There’s not much time left in yard and she had yet to pick a single target.

“Someone’s out for you!” Sammy pants, just keeping up with Jamie’s pace.

Jamie chuckles harshly, “tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Sammy grabs her arm, pulls her back. “Oi!”

Jamie wrenches her arm from Sammy’s grasp. “Don’t,” she warns.

“Right, mate.”

“Look, I know I’m in for it. I know. For fuck’s sake, have you seen my face?”

“Not who I mean, is it?” Sammy replies.

In the distance Jamie can hear the sirens blare, dinner time.

She’s fucked day one of yard observation. She swallows down her pangs of sadness, anger, guilt. The worst day she’d ever had inside, the most responsibility that’s ever been on her shoulders, and she has no progress to show for it.

She will have to wheedle the users out at dinner, when all she truly wants to do is sneak glances at Dani, make sure she’s alright.

She moves away from Sammy, but the other woman stops her again, hand on her arm.

Jamie pulls her arm away again, turning to meet Sammy’s eyes, ask her what she’s playing at, but Sammy digs fists into her jumper, and pulls as Jamie does, preventing movement.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” she asks, desperate.

Sammy tightens her grip, “wait.”

“What for? What are you talking about?” She wrenches herself backward, Sammy’s uneven weight from her damaged leg toppling them over.

She’s quick to scramble back to her feet, quicker than Sammy, still struggling while she commands, “wait, Jamie!”

Jamie frowns, fear rising in her. This is very unlike Sammy, she’s never laid a finger on her before. She’s never heard of her laying a finger on anyone before.

And then she hears it, sirens inside, she turns her head in fear as the distinctly unique alarm rings, and she runs. She runs hard, as fast as her legs will carry her across the yard, a single minded focus willing her on, even after the chill of the air imbeds in her lungs, makes her cough and heave for oxygen.

It can’t be happening by chance, certainly not right after Jamie had accepted the pills from Maggie.

A set up. A set up to take her date. To ensure she will forever be a recipient of Her Majesty’s finest hospitality.

She reaches the door, ripping through it faster than is sensible with so many screws around.

Inmates are lining up outside of their cells, one to each side of the entryway, Dani, she sees, is biting a thumb, eyes red and worried.

Shivers is already in their cell, tossing their belongings all over the place, and Jamie’s worst fears are confirmed.

Someone tipped her off.

A block wide shake down.

The finality that hangs over her life settles upon her with a cold dread. It was always inevitable that it would come to this, that she would be caught up in something bigger than her, something inescapable.

She had thought, at one point, at one very dark point, that it would be death. That the streets would take her.

She almost welcomed that now. The peace and tranquility of what would be promised.

Instead, she’d get ten years, maybe five if she were lucky, but when has she ever been?

She’d be hauled away to segregation, spend the next three weeks alone and come out to a fresh entry on her rap sheet.

Narcotic Holding with Intent to Distribute.

It’s what they all get.

Dani’s eyes lock on hers, and she sees the fear there. Her first shake down.

Jamie sighs, and walks, rigid and reluctant, and takes her place on the opposite side of the doorway.

She stands straight, head and chin held high. Across the mess to the opposite side of the prison stands Debbi, arms crossed, a smirk plastered on her face.

Grim understanding dawns on Jamie. The small bag, the vague comment about collecting, all a ruse. Maggie had never intended Jamie to sell from the start, she probably had never thought Jamie would ever participate in the first place – her position on dealing had been made abundantly clear since meeting Maggie.

She doesn’t care at all that the drugs would be lost, they were collateral damage as far as she’s concerned.

Her true prize was Jamie, hers to fuck with for years to come.

Rage barrels through her, fruitless and unending as something clatters to the floor and shatters under Shivers’ care. There is nothing she can do but wait for the chips to fall, wait for her fate to be decided for her.

A white-hot terror battles with her rage, sweat beading on the back of her neck and nipping along her spine, the long years of her life stretching out before her, stuck in this place, with Maggie and Debbi and whoever else snapping at her heels.

“Clear!” Shivers shouts, and for a split second Jamie thinks she mishears, the voice spiking through her icily before the word registers.

Her head snaps to the right, taking in Dani’s rigid frame, her searching, kind eyes.

The guard watching over them waits for Shiver’s to exit the cell, throwing Jamie a scathing glance as she meets him in step for their next cell.

Jamie whips in, leaping over the upended mattress and flips it over.

How could Shivers have missed it, it doesn’t make any sense.

They have to be here somewhere.

She swipes frantically through her books, scattering her roll-on deodorant and toothbrush, fingers shaking and searching desperately.

Dani’s hand covering her own stills her, and she looks up to meet her eyes, wide and wonderful.

A fresh pang along the torn seam of her heart rips through her, and she let out a hollow breath at the sensation.

She clasps her fingers around Dani’s, leaning forward in the relief. Dani catches her with her other arm, weaving soft patterns into her back.

And she cries. Wracking tears breaking through her façade, warmly accepted by Dani. The tension and stress of the day, of the past six months, of the past year, decade, lifetime, flowing through her.

She collapses limply into the warmth of Dani, fills her senses with the smell of her, with the soft cooing noises she’s making. It’s the closes to home she’s ever been, and the irony that she would find that in the middle of a place like this, designed to strip the best of you, is not lost on her.

“Shh,” Dani breaths in her ear. “It’s okay now, you’re gonna be fine.”

Jamie sniffs, frowns, “it is?” _What is?_

“Yeah, Jamie, it is.”

She shakes her head, raising from her shoulder. “What d’you mean?”

“I took care of it.”

A new anxiety settles in her chest. Dani can’t get involved. “What? What do you mean Dani? You took care of what?”

“Shh,” she says again, firmer. “I took care of it, okay?”

Not okay, but her lips close on Jamie’s and she can’t bring herself to ask again. The sweetness of Dani’s lips pulls her forward, the lips she thought she’d never have the pleasure of tasting again, presses into her own, and she relaxes into it, kissing her back like she’s water in the desert.

If things had gone the way Jamie assumed, this would be near impossible to enjoy again.

She lets the warmth fill her up, head to toes, chest bursting and hands tangling in Dani’s hair. She pulls her close, feels Dani’s arms wrap around her waist, feels her body meld into her own.

“Dani,” she breaks away, fresh tears making tracks on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, about before.”

Dani nods, wipes her tears away. “I know.”

“What’d you d–”

A sharp whistle cuts her off. Her head snaps sharply to the entrance, and she stumbles to her feet, unease flaring through her.

The guards surround the cell directly opposite in droves, curious onlookers poke out from their own destroyed cells. Shouts of, _“they’re not mine!”_ and _“I don’t fucking know”_ rend the air.

Maggie and Debbi, together and separately, being hauled through the mess, through the huge door that will take them to segregation. Jamie turns to face Dani, worrying her lip between teeth. “You?”

She nods, grasps for Jamie’s hand. “I had to.”

Jamie shakes her head, confused. “How’d you know?”

“Sammy?”

“That a question?”

Dani shakes her head. “No, she found me after… She told me what happened.”

“Oh God, what’d you give her?”

Dani flushes. “Turns out money is money in prison too. I promised her I’d get some added to her commissary.”

Jamie swipes a hand on her face. “You have money.”

“Well, I have money on the _outside._ ”

“She knows you have money now.”

“Well yeah – I needed help. I needed her to keep you away, so you wouldn’t try to stop me.”

“That was you?” Jamie asks, shocked.

Dani nods. “Couldn’t risk it, after she told me what they did to you.” She moves in closer, places a hand on Jamie’s swollen cheek, kisses her lips.

Jamie pushes her thoughts to the side, pushes the niggling feeling that Sammy knowing Dani has money not being exactly the best outcome, but willing to admit it probably is not the worst either.

She sighs softly into the kiss, Dani’s sweet lips moving slowly, languidly against her own.

“Clayton!”

Jamie groans, pulls away, and straightens up immediately.

Shivers is making her way over to them, a hungry look in her eye. She roves over Jamie, face twisted in a mean scowl. “Come with me!”

“Me?” Dani squeaks.

Jamie’s heart races, her stomach plummets. “Where!” she demands.

Shivers turns to her, scoffs. “None of _your_ business, Taylor.” Turns to Dani, “now!”

Dani’s hand catches hers, nails digging into her palms, and Jamie’s world shatters.

Dani follows Shivers, through the mess, the eyes of the cell block following her movements.

Jamie stumbles forward a few steps after her. Dani, fearful, looks back, tries to smile reassuringly.

It breaks Jamie’s heart.

The doors close on Dani with a bang, and Jamie makes it back in time to collapse onto her upended mattress, fresh tears pouring down her face.

It’s her fault. If she hadn’t left the pills here. If she’d been honest, told Dani what had happened maybe they could have planned together, Jamie would have been able to take the blame, take the brunt of the punishment.

Now Dani is lost, doomed to fight the same system as Jamie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving feedback, kudosing or silently enjoying. You're all wonderful! 
> 
> Sorry to break poor Jamie some more! Did I mention this was an angsty ride? 
> 
> How's the gay rage now?


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